FIGHTING 
WITH    FREMONT 

A  TALI  Of  mi  COmpmCT  Of  CAUKMMU 


RTI 


nr 

[ETT  McM  II 


KtW  YOtK 
E.  P.  DUTTON  *  COMPANY 


E...P.  Pyy.TpN  §c  COMPANY 


TO  ALL 

WHO  TAKE  A  LIVELY    INTEREST   IN  THE  WONDERFUL 

WESTWARD  GROWTH  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES 

THIS  STORY  OF  SOME  OF  THE   MEN 

WHO  HELPED   TO  WIN  CALIFORNIA 

FOR  THE  UNION 

IS  APPRECIATIVELY 

DEDICATED 


979840 


FOREWORD 

At  the  beginning  of  the  year  1846  California 
was  a  sparsely-settled,  poorly-governed  province 
of  Mexico,  with  only  a  fringe  of  indolent  Span- 
ish settlers  scattered  at  irregular  intervals  along 
the  coast  and  here  and  there  a  patriarchal  ranchero 
dwelling  in  the  fertile  interior  valleys.  The  white 
population  at  that  time  was  estimated  at  about  10,- 
(XX),  of  whom,  possibly,  2,000  were  foreigners,  the 
majority  of  these  foreigners  coming  from  the 
United  States  and  settling  in  the  Sacramento  Val- 
ley in  the  vicinity  of  Sutter's  Fort,  then  the  Mecca 
of  all  foreigners,  especially  if  they  were  from  the 
United  States,  who  came  to  California.  This  was 
all  that  Spain  and  Mexico  had  done  for  California 
during  the  more  than  three  hundred  years  since  the 
Spanish  explorer,  Juan  Cabrillo,  first  sailed  along 
its  coast  and  took  possession  of  the  country  in  the 
name  of  his  sovereign.  Then,  in  1846,  came  the 
war  between  the  United  States  and  Mexico,  dur- 
ing which  the  Conquest  of  California  was  achieved 
and  the  country  became  a  part  of  the  United  States. 

The  acquisition  of  California  at  this  time  meant 

very  much  to  the  United  States;  for,  two  years 

later,  in  January,  1848,  James  W.  Marshall  picked 

up  that  historic  bit  of  yellow  metal,  from  the  tail- 

ix 


x  Foreword 

race  of  the  saw-mill  recently  built  on  the  American 
River  near  Slitter's  Fort,  that  was  to  send  the  wor- 
shipers of  the  yellow  god,  Gold,  hurrying  to  Cali- 
fornia from  all  parts  of  the  civilized  world  and  was 
to  pour  a  steady  stream  of  gold  into  the  pockets  and 
the  treasury  of  the  people  of  the  United  States  for 
many  years  to  come — gold  that  the  United  States, 
alas !  was  soon  to  need  sadly,  when,  some  fourteen 
years  later,  began  the  terrible  Civil  War  that 
drained  the  resources  of  the  nation  almost  to  the 
bottom  of  the  pan.  Indeed,  many  thoughtful  his- 
torians assert  that  the  integrity  of  the  Union  could 
never  have  been  maintained,  if  the  pockets  of  the 
nation  had  not  been  filled  with  California  gold,  with 
which  to  feed  and  equip  and  keep  in  the  field  for 
four  long  years  the  great  armies  required  to  make 
victory  possible. 

FIGHTING  WITH  FREMONT  is  a  tale  of  this 
Conquest  of  California,  so  valuable  and  far-reach- 
ing in  its  after  results  to  the  United  States,  writ- 
ten to  tell  the  younger  generations  something  of 
the  men  and  the  events  and  the  surrounding  cir- 
cumstances that  made  possible  the  winning  of  this 
rich  and  beautiful  country  for  the  Union  and  to 
give  them  a  clearer  comprehension  of  how  one  of 
the  great  stones  was  laid  in  the  massive  foundation 
on  which  the  nation's  present  greatness  has  been 
builded. 

The  adventures  that  befell  Thure  Conroyal  all 
might  have  happened  to  a  boy  living  in  California 


Foreword  xi 

at  that  time  and  under  similar  circumstances. 
Throughout  the  story  the  effort  has  been  made  to 
have  all  the  scenes  and  all  the  characters  true  to 
the  life  and  to  the  times.  No  unwarranted  liberties 
have  been  taken  with  the  historic  scenes  and  char- 
acters depicted.  But  the  history,  it  is  hoped,  has 
been  so  woven  into  the  thread  of  the  tale  itself,  that 
it  will  not  tend  in  the  least  to  lessen  the  interests  of 
the  story,  but,  rather,  to  enhance  it  by  giving  to  its 
fiction  the  similitude  of  truth.  It  is  also  hoped  that 
the  story  will  be  of  sufficient  interest  to  its  young 
readers  to  induce  them  to  turn  to  their  histories  in 
order  to  learn  more  of  these  men  who  helped  to 
build  their  country's  greatness. 

No  nation  can  safely  forget  the  debt  it  owes  to 
its  builders. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  THE  WILDERNESS  MESSENGERS i 

II.  Two  COLUMNS  OF  SMOKE 14 

III.  THE  HOOT  OF  AN  OWL 27 

IV.  A  WILDERNESS  BURIAL 39 

V.  THE  FIGHT  AT  THE  VILLAGE 53 

VI.  THURE  MAKES  A  FAMOUS  SHOT 66 

VII.  LASSOING  A  GRIZZLY 81 

VIII.  A  BRAVE  INDIAN 97 

IX.  SHOOTING  THE  ANTELOPE 107 

X.  THE  RINGING  OF  THE  ALARM  BELL 122 

XI.  IN  THE  DEVIL'S  TRAIL 133 

XII.  IOLA ,     ,     .     .  152 

XIII.  THE  MAD  STALLION 162 

XIV.  AN   INTERRUPTED  GALA 186 

XV.  AT  THE   BUTTES 210 

XVI.  THE  CAPTURE  OF  THE  HORSES 226 

XVII.  THE  LONE  RIFLE  SHOT .     .     .     .236 

XVIII.  SONOMA 254 

XIX.  THE  BEAR  FLAG 275 

XX.  PADILLA 289 

XXI.  KILLING  OF  COWIE  AND  FOWLER 298 

XXII.  THE  LITTLE  GROVE  OF  BRUSHWOOD 308 

XXIII.  IN  THE  CAVE  OF  THE  DEAD 320 

XXIV.  THE  MAN  IN  BUCKSKIN 335 

XXV.  THE  STARS  AND  STRIPES 344 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

THURE  SAW  THAT  HE  WOULD  BE  TOO  LATE  TO  SAVE 

CARSON Frontispiece 

PAGE 

ALL  IN  THE  CAMP,  SAVE  FREMONT,  WERE  NOW  ASLEEP  ....  32 
THE  GRIZZLY  PLUNGED  FORWARD  ALMOST  ON  TOP  OF  THURE  .  .  QO 
THURE  GENTLY  WAVED  THE  RAMROD  BACK  AND  FORTH  .  .  .  .118 
FREMONT'S  HAT  WAS  INSTANTLY  BURIED  DEEP  IN  THE  PILE  OF  HATS  222 


Fighting  With   Fremont 

CHAPTER  I 

THE  WILDERNESS  MESSENGERS 

44  \\7 HAT  do  you  suppose  Captain  Fremont 
*  "  would  do,  Rex,  if  he  should  hear  that  war 
had  broken  out  between  the  United  States  and  Mex- 
ico?" and  Thure  Conroyal  looked  up  from  the  rifle 
he  was  cleaning  into  the  face  of  his  cousin,  Rex 
Holt,  who,  seated  on  a  log  near  by,  was  sharpening 
his  hunting-knife  on  his  whetstone,  his  sun-bronzed 
face  glowing  in  the  ruddy  light  of  the  camp-fire. 

"Do !"  and  the  blue  eyes  flashed  like  rapier  points 
in  the  direction  of  his  young  cousin.  "He'd  whirl 
about  and  start  back  for  California  on  the  double- 
quick.  You  don't  suppose  he'd  leave  the  Ameri- 
cans in  California  unprotected,  or  let  such  a  splen- 
did country  be  gobbled  up  by  the  English  or  the 
French,  without  giving  his  American  rifles  a  chance 
to  speak  a  word,  do  you?  Not  by  the  Eternal 
Andrew  Jackson !  Fremont  is  not  that  kind  of  an 
American.  California  is  about  ripe  to  drop  from 
the  old  Mexican  tree  anyhow;  and,  if  war  should 
shake  her  loose,  he'll  see  that  she  drops  into  the 
arms  of  Uncle  Sam,  where  she  belongs,  and  not 
i 


:  A  'Fighting  With  Fremont 

into  the  outstretched  apron  of  good  old  Mother 
England.  I  reckon,"  and  he  lowered  his  voice  and 
glanced  knowingly  around  the  little  circle  of  men 
gathered  about  the  glowing  camp-fire,  "exploring 
is  not  the  only  reason  for  Fremont's  being  here. 
According  to  all  reports,  war  with  Mexico  is  al- 
most certain;  and,  I  calculate,  Fremont  has  been 
sent  out  here  so  as  to  be  right  on  the  job,  when  the 
war  breaks  out.  Leastwise  that's  how  I  read  the 
signs.  What  do  you  make  out  of  them,  Ham?" 
and  he  turned  to  a  huge  broad-shouldered  man, 
seated  on  a  rock  by  the  side  of  Thure,  meditatively 
puffing  on  an  old  pipe,  while  his  fingers  were  busy 
sewing  a  deerskin  patch  on  the  knee  of  his  already 
well-patched  deerskin  trousers. 

"Wai,"  and  Hammer  Jones,  the  giant  addressed 
as  Ham,  paused  in  his  sewing  and  slowly  took  the 
pipe  from  his  mouth,  "them's  'bout  my  readin'  of 
th'  signs,  Rex.  It  sart'in  would  be  a  mortal  sin 
for  th'  US  tew  let  Johnny  Bull  git  his  grip  on  Cala- 
forny;  an'  it  don't  seem  reasonable  that  th'  good 
Lord  made  sech  a  beautiful  country  jest  for  Mex- 
ies  an'  Ingines  tew  live  in.  Anyhow  th'  country 
belongs  tew  us  by  right  of  situation;  an',  I  reckon, 
if  thar's  goin'  tew  be  any  droppin',  Fremont's  here 
tew  see  that  she  drops  right ;  an',  if  thar's  goin'  tew 
be  any  fitin',  he'll  sure  see  that  we  gits  intew  th' 
scrimmage.  By  th'  long-eared  Ananias,  I'd  like  tew 
see  Uncle  Sam  wallop  th'  Mexies  out  of  their  dirty 
blankets!"  and  he  brought  one  of  his  great  hands 


The  Wilderness  Messengers  3 

down  with  a  resounding  slap  on  his  broad  knee. 

"So  would  I,"  and  Thure  Conroyal  half  jumped 
to  his  feet  in  boyish  enthusiasm,  his  eyes  glowing, 
"because  then  California  would  be  almost  sure  to 
become  a  part  of  the  United  States;  and  it  would 
seem  good  to  live  under  the  old  flag  again;  and  I 
know  that  half  of  the  Californians  would  be  glad 
of  the  change.  They  don't  like  the  Mexicans  much 
more  than  we  Americans  do.  But,"  and  his  young 
face  clouded,  "I  don't  see  how  Fremont  or  anybody 
else  way  up  here  in  Oregon,  hundreds  of  miles  from 
any  white  settlement,  would  know  it,  even  if  war 
should  break  out  between  the  United  States  and 
Mexico.  Why,  Mexico  and  the  United  States 
might  be  fighting  even  now  for  all  we  know!"  he 
concluded  a  bit  dramatically,  dropping  back  on  the 
rock  by  the  side  of  Ham.1 

"So  they  might  be,  but  I  reckon  they  ain't," 
Hammer  Jones  said,  again  picking  up  his  needle 
and  resuming  his  patching,  "or  we  wouldn't  be 
here.  Fremont's  got  mighty  sharp  ears,  an'  news, 
somehow,  travels  powerful  fast,  even  in  th'  wilder- 
ness. Now  I'll  bet  a  hoss  ag'in  a  chaw  of  terbacker 
that  th'  Captain  is  a-thinkin'  of  this  same  problem 

1  Thure  was  right.  Hostilities  between  the  United  States  and 
Mexico  had  already  begun.  About  noon  on  this  very  day,  May  8, 
1846,  General  Taylor  had  fought  and  won  the  battle  of  Palo  Alto, 
the  first  battle  of  the  war ;  but,  of  course,  Fremont  and  his  men,  at 
that  time  in  the  wilderness  of  Oregon,  could  have  no  knowledge 
of  this  fact,  as  they  gathered  around  their  camp-fires  that  night  on 
the  shores  of  Lake  Klamath. 


4  Fighting  With  Fremont 

right  now,"  and  he  turned  his  eyes  to  where  a  tall, 
spare,  active-looking  man  was  standing  alone  by 
the  side  of  his  camp-fire,  staring  down  moodily  into 
the  ruddy  coals.  "Leastwise  he  looks  as  if  he  was 
a-doin'  a  lot  of  powerful  hard  thinkin'  'bout  some- 
thin'.  He's  been  a-standin'  thar  a-lookin'  down 
intew  that  fire  for  the  last  hour,  without  so  much 
as  winking  an  eye." 

"He  certainly  does  look  as  if  he  was  thinking 
some,"  agreed  Rex,  turning  his  eyes  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  solitary  figure  standing  by  the  lonely 
camp-fire.  "And  he  has  acted  uneasy  like  ever 
since  we  left  the  Sacramento  Valley,  as  if  he  wasn't 
half  satisfied  with  himself  for  ever  getting  out  of 
California,  even  if  Castro  did  threaten  to  shove  him 
out  on  the  points  of  his  bayonets." 

"Mighty  lucky  for  Castro  that  he  didn't  try  that 
bayonet-shovin'  game,"  growled  Ham.  "We'd — " 

He  stopped  abruptly  and  his  hand  quickly 
dropped  the  needle  and  swiftly  caught  up  the  rifle 
that  lay  close  by  his  side. 

"I  swun,  what  in  nater  is  comin'  now,  Kit?"  and 
his  eyes  turned  questioningly  to  Kit  Carson,  a 
small  compactly-built  man,  who,  already  alert,  was 
standing,  his  rifle  held  ready  in  his  hands,  bending 
forward  and  listening  intently. 

"Horses,"  answered  Kit  Carson,  a  look  of  relief 
passing  over  his  rugged  face ;  "and  with  white  men 
on  their  backs,"  and  he  straightened  up  and  stood 
quietly  resting  on  the  long  barrel  of  his  rifle,  his 


The  Wilderness  Messengers  5 

keen  gray  eyes  searching  the  darkness  of  the  sur- 
rounding night  in  the  direction  of  the  sound  of 
horses'  feet  that  now  could  be  plainly  heard  ap- 
proaching the  camp. 

By  this  time  all  of  the  little  company  were  on 
their  feet,  their  eyes  turned  anxiously  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  advancing  sound,  wondering  greatly 
who  could  be  thus  approaching  their  camp  out  of 
the  darkness  and  the  wilderness,  where  only  hostile 
Indians  and  wild  beasts  lived.  They  knew  that  it 
could  be  no  enemy.  The  cracking  limbs  and  the 
sounds  of  the  horses'  hoofs,  as  they  stumbled  over 
the  rough  ground  in  the  darkness,  told  them  this; 
for  no  enemy  would  think  of  approaching  an  armed 
camp  thus  noisily.  And  yet,  what  friends  could 
be  seeking  them  in  the  depths  of  this  wilderness? 
and  why  ?  For  a  couple  of  minutes  all  stood,  tense 
with  excitement,  awaiting  they  knew  not  what ;  and 
then  two  dark  figures  emerged  from  the  surround- 
ing blackness  and  moved  slowly  into  the  circle  of 
the  firelight. 

"Wai,  I'll  be  durned,  if  'tain't  bosses  and  white 
men!"  ejaculated  Ham.  "Two  on  'em,  an'  lookin' 
'bout  tuckered.  Now,  who  can  they  be?" 

"Neal  and  Seigler!"  yelled  Kit  Carson,  suddenly 
hurrying  toward  the  two  men.  "Captain,  it's  Sam 
Neal  and  Seigler  from  Sutter's  Fort,"  he  called  to 
Fremont,  who  still  stood  by  the  camp-fire,  his  eyes 
turned  eagerly  in  the  direction  of  the  advancing 
horsemen. 


6  Fighting  With  Fremont 

"Bring  them  to  me  at  once,  Carson,"  Fremont  re- 
plied. "They  must  bring  news  from  the  States," 
and  his  face  lighted  up  and  his  eyes  sparkled,  as  he 
thought  of  what  that  news  might  be. 

"Is  this  Captain  Fremont's  camp?"  called  one 
of  the  horsemen,  the  moment  they  came  within  the 
circle  of  the  firelight. 

"Yes,"  answered  a  dozen  voices. 

"Thank  God !  Take  us  to  Fremont  at  once,"  and 
the  men  tumbled  wearily  out  of  their  saddles. 
"We've  been  trailing  you  as  fast  as  horse  legs  could 
take  us.  Must  have  come  a  hundred  miles  the  last 
two  days ;  and  I  reckon  our  horses  are  plumb  tuck- 
ered. Now,  where' s  Fremont?  we've  a  message  for 
him  that  can't  wait." 

"Here  I  am,"  and  Captain  Fremont,  whose  anx- 
iety had  not  permitted  him  to  await  the  coming  of 
the  men  to  him,  pushed  his  way  through  the  crowd 
that  now  surrounded  the  two  weary  men  and  their 
weary  horses  and,  gripping  a  hand  of  each,  shook  it 
heartily.  "Now,  Sam,"  and  he  turned  to  Samuel 
Neal,  "your  message." 

"Lieutenant  Gillespie,  of  the  United  States  Navy, 
with  a  small  party  of  men,  is  back  there,"  and  Sam 
Neal  jerked  his  thumb  over  his  shoulder  and  pointed 
into  the  darkness  whence  he  had  just  come.  "He 
has  orders  to  find  you  wherever  you  may  be;  and 
we've  been  following  hard  on  your  trail  for  more 
than  a  week.  But,  the  Indians  getting  too  threat- 
ening for  so  small  a  party  to  feel  safe  in  this  wilder- 


The  Wilderness  Messengers  7 

ness,  Lieutenant  Gillespie  mounted  Seigler  and  me 
on  two  of  his  best  horses  yesterday  morning  and 
ordered  us  to  hit  the  trail  after  you  as  fast  as  horse 
legs  could  take  us  and  let  you  know  of  his  danger. 
I  reckon,  Captain,  if  you  take  the  back  trail  right 
quick,  you'll  be  in  time  to  save  Lieutenant  Gillespie 
and  his  men;  but  there'll  be  no  time  for  loitering 
along  the  way.  The  Klamaths  were  hanging  round 
his  little  party,  like  a  pack  of  wolves  round  a  lone 
buffalo  bull,  and  there's  bound  to  be  a  killing  soon. 
Don't  know  what  the  Lieutenant's  message  is,  but  it 
must  be  mighty  important  to  send  him  trailing  after 
you  through  this  wilderness." 

"We  will  start  on  the  back  trail  at  dawn,"  Fre- 
mont declared,  the  lines  on  his  bronzed  face  tight- 
ening, "and  there  will  be  no  loitering.  Carson," 
and,  in  his  quick  decisive  way,  he  turned  to  Kit 
Carson — the  little  gray-eyed  man  was  his  chief  of 
scouts  and  guides,  "have  everything  ready  for  us  to 
start  as  soon  as  it  is  light  enough  for  us  to  see. 
I'll  take  you  and  Basil  Lajeunesse,  Hammer  Jones, 
Rex  Holt  and  his  young  cousin,  Dick  Owens,  Godey, 
and  four  of  the  Delawares,  and  hurry  on  ahead. 
See  that  we  have  the  best  and  freshest  horses  in  the 
troop.  Now  get  into  your  blankets.  You  will 
need  all  the  rest  you  can  get,  for  to-morrow  will  be 
a  hard  day  for  all  of  you.  See  that  the  guards  are 
properly  posted  for  the  night,  Lieutenant  Peck. 
Good  night,"  and  Captain  Fremont,  a  light  glow- 
ing in  his  dark  eyes  that  was  not  there  before  the 


8  Fighting  With  Fremont 

coming  of  the  two  men,  returned  to  the  camp-fire 
burning  in  front  of  his  tent. 

For  a  few  minutes  after  the  departure  of  their 
commander,  the  men  lingered  around  their  camp- 
fires  to  talk  over  the  coming  of  Neal  and  Seigler 
and  to  speculate  on  what  the  message  borne  by 
Lieutenant  Gillespie  might  portend;  and  then,  roll- 
ing themselves  up  in  their  blankets,  their  saddles 
for  their  pillows,  their  rifles  by  their  sides  to  keep 
them  dry  and  to  have  them  handy  in  case  of  need, 
they  stretched  themselves  out  on  the  ground  and 
were  soon  sleeping  soundly. 

"I  am  glad  that  we  are  to  go  on  ahead  with  Cap- 
tain Fremont  and  Kit  Carson,"  Thure  Conroyal 
said,  as  he  lay  down  by  the  side  of  Rex.  "You 
know  I  have  never  seen  Kit  Carson  in  an  Indian 
fight,  but  I've  heard  so  much  about  his  skill  and 
bravery  and  his  always  knowing  just  what  to  do 
no  matter  how  great  the  danger,  that  I'd  give 
almost  anything  to  see  him  in  an  Indian  fight,  and 
now  it  looks  as  if  we  might  have  that  fight.  Oh, 
but  wouldn't  it  be  terrible  if  we  should  get  to  Lieu- 
tenant Gillespie  too  late  and  find  that  the  Indians 
had  killed  him  and  his  men  ?"  and  Thure  shuddered 
at  the  awful  sight  his  vivid  imagination  conjured 
up.  "But,  if  we  did,"  and  his  young  lips  came  to- 
gether grimly,  "Kit  Carson  and  Fremont  would 
make  the  Indians  who  did  it  wish  they  had  never 
seen  Lieutenant  Gillespie,  wouldn't  they,  Rex?" 

"Yes,  and  every  man  of  us  would  help  them,  so 


The  Wilderness  Messengers  9 

long  as  there  was  a  charge  of  powder  in  a  horn  or  a 
knife  in  a  belt,"  answered  Rex,  glowering  fiercely 
out  into  the  surrounding  darkness.  "Them 
Klamaths  have  been  hunting  trouble  for  a  long 
time,  and  now  it  begins  to  look  as  if  they  were 
a-going  to  get  all  they  want.  They  sure  will  if 
they  have  killed  Lieutenant  Gillespie,  and  Fremont 
and  Kit  Carson  get  after  them.  I  never  had  much 
use  for  a  Klamath  anyhow.  They  have  been  a 
constant  menace  ever  since  we  settled  in  the  Sac- 
ramento Valley;  and  'twould  do  them  a  powerful 
lot  of  good  to  teach  them  a  lesson  with  powder  and 
bullets  that  they  wouldn't  forget  right  away;  and 
Fremont's  got  the  men  with  him  who  can  do  it. 
There  are  no  better  Indian  fighters  in  the  Rockies 
than  Kit  Carson,  Dick  Owens,  Godey  and  Basil 
Lajeunesse,  and  they've  got  the  right  sort  of  men 
to  back  them  up." 

"That's  right.  Every  word  on  it  is  right;  but 
jest  plug  up  that  word-spouter,"  growled  Ham, 
who  had  already  rolled  himself  up  in  his  blanket  on 
the  other  side  of  Thure,  "or  I'll  jam  my  blanket 
down  it.  It's  sleep  we're  needin'  now  more'n  word- 
spoutin',  if  we're  tew  be  up  tew-morrer  afore  sun- 
rise." 

"Stop  your  growling  then,  you  old  bear,"  and 
Rex  flung  a  boot  at  Ham's  head.  "I'll  be  to  sleep 
now  before  you,"  and  he  rolled  over  in  his  blanket 
and  was  soon  snoring  in  unison  with  Ham. 

But  sleep  did  not  come  as  easily  to  Thure's  young 


io  Fighting  With  Fremont 

eyes.  He  was  only  fifteen  years  old,  and  this  was 
his  first  venture  into  the  depths  of  the  wilderness, 
and  it  was  not  to  be  expected  that  he  would  be  as 
indifferent  to  the  wild  life  he  was  now  living  as 
were  these  hardy  men,  to  whom  an  Indian  fight  was 
one  of  the  commonplaces  of  their  adventurous  lives. 
For  a  long  time,  indeed  ever  since  his  father 
had  moved  his  household  goods  and  gods  from  New 
Orleans  to  California,  five  years  before,  via  the 
Isthmus  of  Panama,  and  had  settled  down  on  a 
large  ranch  in  the  beautiful  Valley  of  the  Sacra- 
mento, where  he  now  lived  with  his  herds  and  flocks 
like  one  of  the  patriarchs  of  old,  Thure  had  longed 
to  go  hunting  and  trapping  in  the  mountains,  as  his 
father  had  hunted  and  trapped  in  his  early  man- 
hood, had  longed  to  go  out  into  the  mystery  of  the 
wilderness  and  hunt  the  grizzly  bear  and  the  deer 
and  trap  the  beaver  and  fight  the  Indian  and  learn 
the  craft  of  the  woods  and  see  the  grandeur  and 
the  beauty  of  the  mountains  and  the  forests  and 
the  plains,  even  as  his  older  brother,  Dill,  had  done 
until  he  was  married  two  years  ago  and  had  settled 
down  on  his  father's  ranch,  and  as  his  cousin,  Rex 
Holt,  was  still  doing.  From  his  earliest  childhood 
his  blood  had  been  thrilled  and  his  ambition  fired 
with  tales  of  the  men  of  the  rifle  and  the  trap,  with 
stories  of  the  exploits  of  Kit  Carson,  Jim  Bridger, 
Jedidiah  Smith  and  the  hundreds  of  other  fearless 
men,  who  with  rifles  and  traps  had  defied  the  In- 
dians and  the  wild  beasts  and  the  inclemency  of 


The  Wilderness  Messengers  n 

the  weather  and  had  roamed  undaunted  and  un- 
afraid over  the  vast  wilderness  of  mountains  and 
plains  and  forests  west  of  the  Missouri  River;  and 
always  he  had  hoped,  when  he  grew  to  manhood  to 
become  one  of  these  adventurous  men,  as  a  boy  will 
hope  and  dream  of  the  future. 

Then,  with  the  ending  of  the  year  1845,  from  out 
this  wilderness  into  the  Valley  of  the  Sacramento, 
had  come  the  explorer,  John  Charles  Fremont,  at 
the  head  of  his  band  of  hardy  mountaineers, 
bronzed,  weather-beaten,  deerskin-dressed  men, 
armed  with  long-barreled  rifles;  and,  to  Thure's 
great  joy,  with  them  had  come  his  cousin,  Rex  Holt, 
now  one  of  Fremont's  most  valued  men.  This  was 
his  opportunity;  and,  with  all  of  a  boy's  eloquence, 
he  pleaded  with  his  father  for  permission  to  go  with 
Rex,  when  Fremont  again  struck  northward  into 
the  wilderness,  after  General  Castro  had  refused  to 
allow  him  and  his  men  to  remain  in  California ;  and 
to  his  great  joy  his  father  had  offered  no  serious 
objections. 

"You  can  go,"  he  said,  "if  Captain  Fremont  will 
give  his  permission  and  Rex  will  take  you.  The 
rough  life  will  do  you  good.  It  will  put  grit  and 
courage  and  self-reliance  into  you.  There  is  noth- 
ing like  the  wilderness  to  get  all  there  is  in  a  boy  or 
a  man  out  of  him." 

"You  are  too  young,"  Rex  at  first  had  objected. 

"Why,  I  am  almost  as  old  as  you  and  Dill  were 
when  you  crossed  the  Rocky  Mountains  in  search 


12  Fighting  With  Fremont 

of  Kit  Carson  and  found  your  father,"  Thure  had 
replied  indignantly.  "I  am  growing  on  sixteen; 
and  Dill  was  only  sixteen  years  old  and  you  were 
but  seventeen  when  you  had  all  those  adventures 
with  Captain  Tom,  shooting  grizzly  bears  and  buf- 
falos  and  fighting  Indians;  and  I've  often  heard 
dad  say  the  experience  made  men  out  of  both  of 
you;  and,  I  reckon,  if  that  trip  was  good  for  you 
then,  this  one  will  be  good  for  me  now.  You  will 
let  me  go  with  you,  won't  you,  Rex?"  * 

And  Rex  had  laughed  and  yielded;  and  Captain 
Fremont  had  at  first  frowned  and  then  smiled  and 
yielded;  and  thus  it  had  come  about  that  young 
Thure  Conroyal  was  with  Fremont,  when  the  two 
messengers  from  Lieutenant  Gillespie  rode  into  his 
camp  in  the  Oregon  wilderness  on  that  May  night 
in  the  year  1846. 

For  many  minutes  after  the  loud  breathing  of 
Rex  and  Ham  told  him  that  they  were  sound  asleep, 
Thure  lay  with  mind  too  excited  over  the  sudden 
coming  of  the  two  men  from  out  the  darkness  of 
the  night  and  the  wilderness,  and  the  message  they 
bore,  and  Captain  Fremont's  commands  for  the 
morrow  for  even  the  exhaustion  of  his  body  to  bring 
sleep.  The  thought  of  Lieutenant  Gillespie's  peril 
that  very  moment  the  Indians  might  be  attack- 


1  The  story  of  Rex's  and  Dill's  perilous  journey  with  Captain  Tom 
Roberts  and  his  band  of  trappers,  has  been  already  narrated  in  the 
first  book  of  this  series,  entitled  "WITH  KIT  CARSON  IN  THE 
ROCKIES." 


The  Wilderness  Messengers  13 

ing  him,  of  what  his  message  to  Fremont  might 
portend — war  with  Mexico  meant  war  in  Califor- 
nia, of  the  swift  backward  journey  on  the  morrow 
and  its  probable  Indian  fight,  so  stirred  his  young 
and  susceptible  mind  that,  although  he  tried  to  go 
to  sleep,  he  could  not  still  his  uneasy  thoughts  and 
sleep  refused  to  come. 

At  length  Thure  partly  arose,  and,  leaning  on 
one  elbow,  looked  out  into  the  silence  and  mystery 
of  the  great  wilderness.  Above,  through  the  dark 
branches  of  the  trees,  twinkled  the  eternal  stars. 
There  was  no  moon.  Close  around  him,  but  scat- 
tered at  irregular  intervals,  the  camp-fires  of  Fre- 
mont's men  glowed  ruddily  through  the  darkness, 
the  dim  outlines  of  their  sleeping  bodies,  stretched 
out  in  their  blankets  on  the  ground,  looking  like  the 
black  logs  of  trees.  A  little  distance  to  his  right, 
in  the  dark  shadows  of  a  huge  tree,  the  white  tent 
of  the  commander  showed ;  and,  seated  on  a  log  be- 
fore the  fire  burning  near  the  tent's  entrance,  his 
elbow  resting  on  one  knee,  his  chin  in  his  cupped 
hand,  his  eyes  staring  down  into  the  glowing  coals, 
sleepless,  thinking,  pondering,  planning,  sat  Fre- 
mont. How  long  he  sat  thus,  Thure  never  knew, 
for,  presently,  awed  and  subdued  and  quieted  by 
the  mystery  and  the  silence  of  the  wilderness  and 
the  night,  he  sank  back  on  his  blanket  and  soon  his 
eyes  had  closed  in  sleep. 


CHAPTER  II 

TWO  COLUMNS  OF  SMOKE 

JOHN  CHARLES  FREMONT  at  this  date, 
*J  1846,  had  already  won  world-wide  renown  as 
an  American  explorer.  In  1842,  under  the  direc- 
tion of  the  United  States  government,  he  had  led 
his  first  exploring  expedition  into  the  wilds  of  the 
then  unknown  Rocky  Mountains,  passing  through 
the  South  Pass  and  going  as  far  west  as  the  Wind 
River  Mountains.  In  1843  the  government  had 
again  sent  him  westward  to  continue  his  explora- 
tions to  the  Pacific  coast.  This  Second  Expedi- 
tion led  him  northwestward  as  far  as  Fort  Van- 
couver on  the  Columbia  River,  and  thence,  by  a 
wide  southerly  sweep,  into  California  and  down  the 
Sacramento  Valley  to  Sutter's  Fort.  From  Sut- 
ter's  Fort  he  went  to  San  Francisco,  and  from  there 
down  the  Pacific  coast  to  a  point  not  far  from  Los 
Angeles,  where  he  turned  northeast  and,  again 
crossing  the  Sierras  and  the  Rocky  Mountains, 
reached  civilization.  Two  years  later,  in  the 
Autumn  of  1845,  the  authorities  at  Washington 
once  again  started  Fremont  westward  at  the  head 
of  another  exploring  expedition,  with  instructions 
to  discover,  if  possible,  a  more  southerly  route  to 
14 


Two  Columns  of  Smoke  15 

the  Pacific  coast  than  that  through  the  South  Pass, 
and  with  certain  other  private  instructions,  the  ex- 
act nature  of  which  are  unknown  even  to  this  day, 
concerning  the  part  he  was  to  play  in  the  drama  of 
the  Conquest  of  California,  in  the  event  of  the  im- 
pending Mexican  war  becoming  a  reality.  This 
was  the  famous  Third  Exploring  Expedition;  and 
the  one  with  which  our  heroes  are  directly  con- 
cerned. 

Sixty  men,  nearly  all  of  them  old  hunters  and 
trappers  skilled  in  the  perils  and  inured  to  the  hard- 
ships of  the  mountains  and  the  plains,  made  up  the 
personnel  of  this  expedition.  First  among  these 
veterans  of  the  rifle  and  the  trap  was  Kit  Carson, 
then  in  the  prime  of  his  life  and  famous  through- 
out all  the  West  for  his  wonderful  skill  with  his 
rifle,  his  dauntless  courage  and  pluck,  his  remark- 
able knowledge  of  the  pathways  through  the  moun- 
tains and  over  the  plains,  and,  above  all,  for  the 
cool  courage  and  alert  quickness  of  mind  and  body 
that  made  him  one  of  the  most  successful  Indian 
fighters  that  the  West  has  known — and  yet,  Kit 
Carson  was  a  small,  quiet-appearing  man  who  never 
uttered  a  boastful  word!  Then  there  were  Alexis 
Godey,  Richard  Owens,  Fitzpatrick,  Basil  La- 
jeunesse,  all  famous  hunters  and  Indian  fighters, 
and  many  others  like  Hammer  Jones  and  Rex  Holt, 
who,  although  not  so  well  known  to  fame,  were  yet 
as  brave  and  as  skilful  as  any.  Altogether  it  would 
have  been  difficult  to  have  found  sixty  men  any- 


1 6  Fighting  With  Fremont 

where  that  would  have  been  better  able  to  take 
care  of  themselves  under  any  circumstance  that 
they  were  likely  to  meet  on  the  plains  or  in  the  moun- 
tains than  were  these  men  of  Fremont — rough, 
deerskin-clothed,  weather-beaten,  stalwart  sons  of 
the  untamed  West. 

Another  member  of  the  party  must  not  be  forgot- 
ten. This  was  Jacob  Dodson,  a  negro,  who  had 
been  with  Fremont  on  his  Second  Expedition,  and 
who  firmly  believed  that  "Massah  Fremont  could  no 
mo'  git  er  long  without  dis  nigger  to  'tend  to  his 
pusnel  comforts  than  could  a  HI  chick  without  de 
ma-hen."  He  was  tall  and  lank  in  frame,  with  a 
long  narrow  head,  crowned  with  kinky  black  wool, 
an  enormous  mouth,  guarded  by  a  set  of  ivories 
that  shone  like  rows  of  white  tombstones  in  the 
mouth  of  a  dark  cave  when  he  grinned,  and  huge 
ears  that  stuck  out  on  each  side  of  his  head  like 
opened  barn  doors.  The  skin  on  his  face  was  ab- 
normally loose  and,  when  he  laughed  or  became  ex- 
cited, ludicrous  grimaces  chased  one  another  all 
over  his  chocolate-colored  countenance.  Possibly 
it  was  for  these  reasons  that  the  men  all  called  him 
Beauty — Beaut,  for  short — when  they  did  not  call 
him  anything  worse.  In  addition  to  all  these  en- 
trancing qualifications  the  negro  was  good-natured, 
willing  and  as  "funny  as  a  circus" ;  and  there  was 
not  a  man  in  all  the  company  from  Fremont  down 
who  did  not  consider  Beaut  one  of  the  "best  niggers 
that  ever  shoveled  grub." 


Two  Columns  of  Smoke  17 

This  Third  Exploring  Expedition,  after  many 
hardships  and  perils,  had  reached  Sutter's  Fort 
in  California  in  December,  1845;  and  had  re- 
mained in  California  until  the  trouble  with  Gen- 
eral Castro  arose.  Castro  accused  the  Ameri- 
cans of  being  highwaymen  and  freebooters,  and 
ordered  them  forthwith  out  of  the  country  un- 
der penalty  of  being  driven  out  by  force  of 
arms.  Naturally  Fremont  and  his  bold  moun- 
taineers did  not  like  the  tone  of  this  order,  and 
they  refused  to  go  until  they  got  ready  to  go. 
General  Castro  at  once  gathered  a  force  of  Mexican 
soldiery  and  marched  against  the  Americans.  Fre- 
mont promptly  fortified  himself  on  the  top  of  a 
near-by  mountain,  and  defied  Castro  to  do  his  worst. 
For  three  days  he  awaited  the  Mexicans.  They 
came,  some  three  or  four  hundred  strong  and  with 
three  pieces  of  artillery;  but,  when  they  saw  the 
strong  fort  of  logs  which  had  been  built  on  the  top 
of  the  mountain  and  thought  of  the  sixty  deadly 
rifles  behind  it,  they  concluded  that  the  Americans 
were  not  such  bad  fellows  after  all,  if  let  alone,  and 
made  no  move  to  attack.  On  the  third  day  Fre- 
mont, not  wishing  to  involve  the  United  States  in 
trouble  with  Mexico  unless  obliged  to  do  so,  with- 
drew slowly  and  growlingly  northward  up  the  val- 
ley to  Sutter's  Fort,  where  Thure  Conroyal  had 
joined  him.  He  remained  at  Sutter's  Fort  for  a 
week;  and  then,  wishing  to  explore  the  regions 
about  Lake  Klamath  and  the  Columbia  River,  he 


i8  Fighting  With  Fremont 

had  started  northward  for  the  Oregon  wilderness ; 
and  it  was  there,  on  the  shores  of  Lake  Klamath, 
that  the  two  messengers  from  Lieutenant  Gillespie 
had  found  him,  when  their  advent  out  of  the  dark- 
ness and  the  wilderness  had  awakened  so  much  anx- 
iety and  interest  in  the  camp  of  our  friends. 

When  Thure  awoke  the  next  morning,  he  found 
himself  sprawling  on  the  ground  with  the  grinning 
face  of  Hammer  Jones  bending  over  him,  one  end  of 
the  blanket  from  which  he  had  been  so  unceremon- 
iously dumped  still  in  the  hands  of  his  big  friend. 

"First  call  for  breakfast,"  grinned  Ham.  "An' 
thar  won't  be  no  second  call.  Lively,  now,"  and, 
suddenly  reaching  down,  he  caught  Thure  by  the 
shoulders  with  both  huge  hands,  jerked  him  to 
his  feet  and  shook  him  until  Thure  feared  he  might 
shake  the  teeth  out  of  his  jaws.  "Best  way  I  know 
on  for  wakin'  boys,"  Ham  continued  cheerfully,  de- 
positing Thure  on  a  log  near  the  camp-fire.  "Never 
knowed  it  tew  fail.  Seems  tew  git  right  after 
sleep  an'  shake  it  plumb  out  of  a  feller,  like  a  ter- 
rier shakin'  th'  life  out  of  a  rat,  now  don't  it, 
Thure?"  and  Ham  grinned  quizzically  down  into 
the  boy's  face. 

"You  bet;  but  don't  tell  dad  about  it,"  Thure 
laughed.  "When  do  we  start?"  and  his  eyes 
turned  eagerly  to  the  face  of  Ham. 

"Jest  as  soon  as  we  git  outside  our  feed.  Kit's 
got  th'  hosses  ready,  an'  th'  Captain's  given  orders 


Two  Columns  of  Smoke  19 

for  everybody  tew  be  ready  tew  mount  in  half  an 
hour.  We're  all  mighty  anxious  tew  git  tew  Lieu- 
tenant Gillespie  afore  them  durned  Klamaths  gits 
his  scalp,  so,  I  reckon,  we'll  do  some  powerful  fast 
ridin'  when  we  git  started." 

"Oh,  I  do  hope  we  will  be  in  time!" 

"I  reckon  we  will,  if  hoss  flesh  can  git  us  thar. 
'Tain't  Kit  Carson's  way  tew  loiter  none,  when  he's 
after  Ingines.  Now  git  busy  with  that  bear  steak 
and  coffee,"  and  Ham  pointed  to  a  huge  chunk  of 
bear  meat  that  was  roasting  over  the  coals. 

During  this  short  conversation  Thure  had  been 
getting  into  the  few  clothes  he  had  taken  off  for 
the  night  and  now  he  was  dressed  and,  after  a 
dash  of  cold  water  from  the  lake  over  his  face  and 
hands,  he  was  ready  to  tackle  the  steak,  with  an 
appetite  that  needed  none  of  the  condiments  of  civ- 
ilization to  sharpen  it. 

The  little  wilderness  encampment  now  presented 
a  busy  and  a  strikingly  picturesque  scene.  The 
sun  had  not  yet  risen,  and  a  dozen  camp-fires 
glowed  ruddily  through  the  darkness  of  the  early 
morning.  About  them  moved  the  picturesque  fig- 
ures of  the  deerskin-clothed  men,  packing  the 
camp  equipment,  saddling  the  horses,  cooking,  eat- 
ing, shouting,  laughing,  even  singing  or  attempt- 
ing to  sing  in  the  very  exuberance  of  their  joyous 
animal  spirits;  and  yet  there  was  no  confusion. 
Each  had  his  particular  work  to  do  and  did  it 


2O  Fighting  With  Fremont 

promptly  and  effectively,  like  trained  soldiers,  which 
in  a  sense  they  were,  for  Fremont  always  held  his 
men  under  strict  military  discipline. 

Before  the  half  hour  was  up  all  were  ready  for 
the  start.  Captain  Fremont  gave  his  last  orders 
to  the  officer  left  in  charge  of  the  main  part  of  the 
command,  which  was  to  follow  as  swiftly  as  possi- 
ble the  little  company  of  men  hurrying  to  the  aid 
of  Lieutenant  Gillespie;  and  then,  springing  on  the 
back  of  Sacramento,  his  favorite  horse,  he  placed 
himself  at  the  head  of  the  rescuing  party,  and,  at 
the  word  of  command  and  with  the  cheers  of  their 
comrades  left  behind  shouting  encouragement  in 
their  ears,  the  little  cavalcade  galloped  off,  just  as 
the  first  rays  of  the  morning  sun  glistened  on  the 
distant  tops  of  the  eastern  mountains. 

Every  man  of  them  was  riding  light,  carrying 
only  his  weapons  and  ammunition.  All  of  the  im- 
pedimenta had  been  left  behind  with  the  main  com- 
mand. Each  was  mounted  on  a  horse  selected  for 
speed  and  endurance.  No  one  knew  better  than 
did  these  men  the  dangers  that  threatened  Lieu- 
tenant Gillespie,  and  the  need  of  haste.  They  had 
just  passed  through  the  region  where  he  now  was, 
and  had  witnessed  the  hostility  of  the  warlike 
Klamaths.  Only  their  numbers  had  protected  them 
from  open  attack.  The  small  party  of  Lieutenant 
Gillespie  could  not  hope  to  long  escape  the  vengeful 
wrath  of  the  Klamaths,  who  resented  bitterly  the 
coming  of  the  white  man  into  their  hunting- 


Two  Columns  of  Smoke  21 

grounds.  Every  moment  of  time  was  precious.  A 
half  hour,  a  minute,  might  measure  the  difference 
between  life  and  a  horrible  death.  No,  there  would 
be  no  loitering  on  this  backward  rush  to  the  rescue 
of  Lieutenant  Gillespie. 

Captain  Fremont  and  Kit  Carson  rode  at  the 
head  and  set  the  pace.  At  their  right  and  at  their 
left,  silent  and  watchful,  rode  two  of  the  Delaware 
Indians.  Behind  them  came  Rex  and  Ham,  with 
Thure  between  them.  Dick  Owens  and  the  others 
followed.  Their  keen  eyes  found  no  difficulty  in 
following  the  back  trail,  and  where  the  ground  per- 
mitted they  could  ride  at  full  speed.  But  the  way 
ran  through  a  roadless  wilderness  of  mountains  and 
forests  and  valleys,  and  they  were  frequently  com- 
pelled by  its  roughness  to  walk  their  horses.  Then 
the  men  swore  under  their  breaths  and  the  anx- 
ious look  in  their  eyes  deepened  and  their  lips  tight- 
ened grimly.  At  noon  they  paused  on  the  banks  of 
a  little  stream  of  water  for  thirty  minutes,  to  rest 
their  horses  and  eat  their  frugal  meal ;  and  then  on 
again. 

"Do  you  think  we  will  find  Lieutenant  Gillespie 
to-day?"  Thure  asked,  late  in  the  afternoon. 

"I  hope  so,"  Rex  replied,  glancing  anxiously  to 
where  the  sun  was  already  nearing  the  tops  of  the 
western  mountains.  "According  to  Neal  and  Seig- 
ler  they  ought  to  camp  somewhere  nigh  Squaw 
Lake  to-night,  and  we  ought  to  make  Squaw  Lake 
before  it  gets  too  dark  to  see  our  way,  if — " 


22  Fighting  With  Fremont 

At  that  moment  the  leaders  of  the  little  cavalcade 
stopped  abruptly,  their  eyes  all  turned  to  the  dis- 
tant south,  where  a  thin  column  of  black  smoke 
rose  in  sudden  wavering  puffs  from  the  rounded  top 
of  a  mountain  five  or  more  miles  away.  A  couple 
of  minutes  later  an  answering  smoke-column  ap- 
peared, rising  from  the  top  of  a  mountain  across 
the  valley  from  where  the  first  column  was  seen. 

No  one  spoke.  All  sat  motionless  on  the  backs  of 
their  horses,  their  eyes  intent  on  the  columns  of 
smoke  until  the  last  puff  had  vanished  in  the  air. 
Then  all  turned  anxious  faces  to  where  Kit  Carson 
sat,  as  to  the  man  best  able  to  interpret  those  threat- 
ening smoke  signals ;  for  this  was  the  Indian  way  of 
telegraphing  the  approach  of  an  enemy  or  of  sum- 
moning distant  bands,  and  the  signals  might  mean 
that  their  coming  had  been  discovered  or  that  dis- 
tant bands  were  being  called  together,  possibly  to 
attack  Lieutenant  Gillespie. 

"Do  you  think  they  have  discovered  us?"  and 
Fremont  turned  quickly  to  Kit  Carson. 

"No,"  answered  Carson.  "It's  more  likely  that 
they  are  calling  in  some  distant  bands  of  warriors. 
What  do  you  say,  Dick?"  and  he  turned  to  Dick 
Owens. 

"I  say,  let's  be  gettin'  on  our  way.  The  sooner 
we  find  Lieutenant  Gillespie,  the  more  comfortable 
I'll  feel.  Them  signals  don't  concern  us  as  much 
as  they  do  him." 

"Dick  is  right,  Captain,"  Carson  spoke  decisively. 


Two  Columns  of  Smoke  23 

"We  must  make  the  most  of  every  moment  of  day- 
light; for,  if  we  do  not  find  Lieutenant  Gillespie  to- 
night, I  fear  we  will  never  find  him  alive." 

"We  will  find  him  to-night,  if  it  takes  all  night. 
Forward!"  and  the  lips  of  Captain  Fremont  tight- 
ened grimly,  as  he  struck  the  spurs  into  the  flanks 
of  Sacramento  and  led  the  way  in  a  swift  gallop 
over  a  stretch  of  level  valley. 

The  scenery  through  which  they  were  now  travel- 
ing was  grand,  was  really  worthy  of  the  use  of  that 
much  abused  word,  sublime.  On  either  side  of  the 
valley  towered  huge  mountains,  their  tops  night- 
capped  with  snow.  Great  walls  and  buttresses  and 
castellated  piles  of  barren  rocks  reared  their  frown- 
ing heights  on  every  side,  save  where  the  level  of 
the  valley  lay  smiling  with  verdure.  Like  a  string 
of  pearly  beads  a  rivulet  flowed  over  the  bosom  of 
the  valley,  its  sparkling  waters  hidden  here  and 
there  by  little  groves  of  trees.  God  had  thought 
big  and  beautiful  thoughts  when  He  piled  up  these 
mountains  and  leveled  the  valleys  and  carved  out 
ways  for  the  rushing  waters. 

But  our  anxious  friends  could  give  no  thought  to 
the  beauties  of  the  scene.  Their  eyes  must  be  ever 
on  the  search  for  lurking  savages,  their  hands  ever 
ready  to  defend  their  lives.  The  castellated  piles 
and  walls  and  buttresses  of  rock  were  interesting  to 
them  only  as  possible  ambuscading-places  for  their 
wily  foes.  Any  moment  the  horrifying  war-whoop 
might  chill  their  blood.  They  had  no  time  to  throw 


24  Fighting  With  Fremont 

out  scouts  in  advance  to  investigate.  They  must 
take  their  chances,  depending  solely  on  their  won- 
derfully trained  senses  to  warn  them  of  danger  be- 
fore it  was  too  late  to  ward  it  off. 

For  an  hour  longer  they  traveled  on,  as  swiftly 
as  the  roughness  of  the  way  would  allow.  Then 
the  shadows  of  night  began  to  gather  thickly  in  the 
valleys  and  they  were  compelled  to  walk  their 
horses;  but  still  they  pressed  on.  Soon  it  became 
so  dark  that  Kit  Carson  and  one  of  the  Delaware 
Indians  dismounted,  and,  leading  their  horses,  lit- 
erally felt  their  way,  the  others  falling  in  line  close 
behind  them.  Suddenly,  Carson  and  the  Indian 
stopped,  Carson  holding  up  his  hand  for  silence. 

A  faint  sound,  differing  from  the  natural  sounds 
of  the  mountains  and  the  night,  had  reached  their 
keen  ears. 

"What  is  it?"  whispered  Thure,  his  voice  tremb- 
ling a  little  in  spite  of  his  utmost  efforts. 

"Sh-h- !"  and  Rex  held  up  a  warning  hand. 

Again,  faint  but  distinct,  came  the  sound  through 
the  stillness  of  the  night. 

"It's  a  camp;  but  I  can't  tell  whether  it's  Whites 
or  Indians,  so  I  reckon  the  Delaware  and  I  had 
better  find  out.  Stay  right  where  you  are  until  we 
get  back;  and  keep  as  still  as  the  Lord  will  let  you," 
and  Kit  Carson  passed  his  bridle  rein  to  Rex;  and 
the  next  moment  he  and  the  Delaware  had  vanished 
so  silently  into  the  darkness  that  Thure  could  not 
hear  the  slightest  sound  of  their  going. 


Two  Columns  of  Smoke  25 

A  half  hour  passed — a  long  half  hour  to  the  wait- 
ing men,  sitting  there  in  the  darkness  and  the  silence 
of  the  wilderness,  every  nerve  tense  with  excite- 
ment and  hope;  and  then,  so  suddenly  and  quietly 
that  even  Fremont  started,  Kit  Carson  stood  by  his 
side. 

"It's  the  camp  of  Lieutenant  Gillespie,  Captain," 
he  reported  quietly,  yet  loud  enough  for  all  to 
hear. 

"Thank  God!"  Fremont  breathed  fervently. 

"Quiet !"  and  Carson  held  up  a  warning  hand  as 
something  almost  like  a  cheer  burst  from  the  lips 
of  the  men.  "The  surrounding  mountains  may  be 
full  of  listening  ears.  Fall  in  quietly  behind  me 
and  I  will  lead  you  to  his  camp.  It  is  in  a  little 
grove  of  trees  about  twenty  rods  from  the  shores 
of  Squaw  Lake,"  and,  taking  the  bridle  rein  of  his 
horse  from  Rex,  he  led  the  way. 

"Oh,  but  I  am  glad,  glad  that  we  reached  Lieu- 
tenant Gillespie  in  time!"  and  Thure's  voice  trem- 
bled so  with  emotions  that  he  fain  would  have  given 
vent  to  in  shouts  of  joy.  "Now  we  will  hear  from 
the  States.  Now  we  will  know  whether  or  not  war 
with  Mexico  has  begun." 

"Hush!"  and  Rex  glanced  admonishingly  to 
where  Captain  Fremont  sat  silent  and  thoughtful 
on  his  horse,  his  tall  form  dimly  outlined  in  the 
darkness.  "I  reckon  we're  all  mighty  glad  to  find 
Lieutenant  Gillespie  safe,  and  mighty  anxious  to 
know  why  he  has  come  so  far  to  find  Fremont,  but 


26  Fighting  With  Fremont 

now  mum  is  the  word  until  we  are  in  Lieutenant 
Gillespie's  camp." 

For  some  ten  or  fifteen  minutes  the  little  caval- 
cade followed  the  leadership  of  Kit  Carson  through 
the  darkness,  no  one  speaking  a  word  but  all  strain- 
ing their  eyes  to  catch  the  first  glimpse  of  the 
friendly  glow  of  the  camp-fire  of  Lieutenant  Gil- 
lespie;  and  then  Thure  heard  off  to  his  right  the 
sound  of  water  softly  lapping  the  confining  shores 
and  saw  dimly  through  the  encircling  trees  the  dark 
surface  of  a  small  body  of  water. 

"Squaw  Lake,"  Rex  whispered  and  nodded  in 
the  direction  of  the  water.  "I  reckoned  we'd  find 
Lieutenant  Gillespie  camped  somewhere  near  here, 
since  it's  the  only  place  within  ten  miles  where 
there's  plenty  of  water." 

For  some  five  minutes  they  journeyed  near  the 
shores  of  the  lake,  then  Kit  Carson  turned  abruptly 
to  the  left,  and  a  couple  of  minutes  later  they  caught 
sight  of  the  welcomed  glow  of  a  camp-fire  shining 
through  the  trees. 

"Halt !"  called  a  sentry ;  and  then,  as  he  saw  who 
it  was,  "Fremont !"  he  yelled  joyously. 

The  little  group  of  men  seated  around  the  camp- 
fire  leaped  to  their  feet  and  hurried  forward  to  meet 
them;  and  soon  Captain  Fremont  was  gripping  the 
hand  of  Lieutenant  Gillespie. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  HOOT  OF  AN  OWL 

THURE  CONROYAL'S  bones  were  not  made 
out  of  iron,  nor  were  his  flesh  and  muscles 
composed  of  red  india-rubber;  so  that,  when  he 
dismounted  from  his  horse  in  the  camp  of  Lieu- 
tenant Gillespie  after  that  long  day's  ride — well, 
he  was  so  completely  tuckered  out  that  he  could 
hardly  stand,  but,  pluckily,  he  kept,  or  tried  to  keep, 
all  his  feelings  of  weariness  to  himself.  He  did  not 
want  these  hardened  men,  tough  as  the  gnarled 
oaks  of  their  own  forests,  to  imagine  that  a  little 
jaunt  like  that  could  tire  him  out,  even  if  he  was 
only  a  boy.  But  the  kindly  eyes  of  Hammer  Jones 
caught  sight  of  his  tired  face  in  the  fire-light,  as  he 
bent  to  loosen  his  saddle-cinch. 

"You  jest  squat  down  on  that  log  aside  th'  fire. 
I'll  tend  tew  your  hoss,"  and  the  big  fellow  laid  a 
sympathetic  hand  on  Thure's  shoulder.  "It's  been 
a  powerful  tiresome  ride,  an',  I  reckon,  all  on  us 
are  'bout  tuckered;  but  you've  stood  it  like  a  little 
major,"  and  the  great  hand  gave  him  a  kindly  shove 
toward  the  log. 

"But,  I'm  not  tuckered,"  Thure  affirmed  indig- 
27. 


28  Fighting  With  Fremont 


nantly.  "Just  a  ^tle  saddle-worn.  I  can  take  care 
of  my  own  horse." 

"Of  course  you  can,"  grinned  Ham.  "But  that 
chunk  of  venison  spitted  over  th'  fire  can't  turn  it- 
self, an',  if  you  don't  turn  it,  I  reckon  nobody  else 
will,  seein'  everybody  but  me's  tew  excited  tew 
think  of  their  stumicks.  Thar,  can't  you  see  she's 
smokin'  !  An'  me  hungry  enough  tew  chaw  horse 
hair  !  Quick  !"  and  he  gave  Thure  a  vigorous  push 
toward  the  fire,  over  which  a  huge  chunk  of  meat, 
spitted  on  a  long  sharpened  stick,  was  roasting. 
"You  keep  that  grub  from  burnin'  an'  I'll  'tend 
tew  th'  hosses." 

"All  right;  but  I'm  not  tuckered,  Ham  —  that  is 
not  completely,"  and  Thure  stumbled  over  to  the 
log,  sat  down  and,  seizing  hold  of  the  end  of  the 
stick  that  was  thrust  into  the  ground,  turned  it  so 
that  the  opposite  side  of  the  meat  was  exposed  to  the 
heat  of  the  fire. 

From  where  he  sat  he  could  see  Captain  Fre- 
mont and  Lieutenant  Gillespie;  and,  for  the  mo- 
ment, he  even  forgot  his  weariness  in  his  anxiety 
to  learn  something  of  what  had  sent  Lieutenant  Gil- 
lespie so  far  into  the  wilderness  to  find  Captain 
Fremont.  The  two  officers,  the  moment  the  greet- 
ings were  over,  had  stepped  apart  from  all  the 
others  and  now  stood  close  together,  talking  in  low 
voices,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  camp-fire  from 
where  Thure  sat.  The  faces  of  both  showed  great 
excitement  and  their  gestures  were  emphatic  and 


The  Hoot  of  an  Owl  29 

decisive  and  occasionally  their  voices  were  raised 
sufficiently  for  Thure  to  catch  a  few  words.  Pres- 
ently Fremont,  his  eyes  kindling  and  his  dark  face 
flushing  in  the  light  of  the  camp-fire,  said  so  loudly 
that  Thure  could  hear  every  word  distinctly:  "I 
understand,  Lieutenant  Gillespie;  and  I  will  do  all 
that  I  can  to  see  that  the  hopes  of  the  President  and 
the  Secretary  are  realized.  Now,  give  me  my  let- 
ters and  papers.  It  has  been  eleven  months  since  I 
have  heard  a  word  from  wife  and  home,"  and  a 
wistful  longing  look  came  into  the  eyes  of  Fremont. 

The  two  men  now  moved  over  to  where  Lieu- 
tenant Gillespie's  saddle  lay,  and  from  the  saddle- 
bags the  lieutenant  took  a  bundle  of  letters  and  a 
package  of  papers  and  handed  them  to  Fremont. 
Fremont  then  returned  to  the  fire,  and,  seating  him- 
self on  a  log,  began  eagerly  reading  the  letters  and 
examining  the  papers. 

In  the  meantime  the  tired  horses  had  been  un- 
saddled and  safely  picketed,  and  the  men,  having 
built  two  other  camp-fires,  gathered  around  them, 
and  soon  the  coffee  pots  were  boiling  and  the  air  fra- 
grant with  the  savory  odors  of  roasting  meats. 

"Wai,  son,  how's  that  meat?"  and  Ham,  reach- 
ing down  over  Thure's  shoulder,  seized  the  spit  on 
which  the  meat  was  roasting  and  examined  the  hot 
chunk  of  venison  with  critical  eyes.  "Done  tew  a 
turn  an'  smellin'  fit  tew  make  a  king's  mouth  water. 
Come;  we're  tew  mess  with  Kit  an'  Rex  an'  Dick 
an'  Godey,"  and,  carrying  the  meat,  still  fastened  to 


30  Fighting  With  Fremont 

the  stick,  in  his  hand,  he  led  the  way  to  one  of  the 
camp-fires  around  which  were  gathered  Kit  Carson, 
Rex  Holt  and  a  number  of  other  deerskin-clothed 
men. 

All  the  men  had  journeyed  far  that  day  and  all 
were  very  tired,  too  tired  and  sleepy  to  sit  long  by 
the  camp-fire  and  talk,  while,  as  for  Thure,  now 
that  the  excitement  was  over  and  his  stomach  full 
of  food,  he  could  scarcely  keep  his  eyes  open. 

"Better  get  to  sleep,  Thure,"  Kit  Carson  said, 
noticing  the  boy's  nodding  head ;  "and  so  had  all  of 
us.  At  least  that  is  what  I  am  going  to  do  just  as 
soon  as  I  get  my  rifle  cleaned,"  and,  picking  up  his 
rifle,  he  began  at  once  cleaning  it  with  all  the  loving 
care  a  man  bestows  upon  his  most  valued  treasure. 

Some  of  the  other  men  followed  his  example  and 
began  cleaning  their  rifles;  and  Thure  gladly  took 
his  advice  and  rolling  his  tired  form  up  in  a  blanket 
near  the  fire,  for  the  night  was  cold,  was  sound 
asleep  almost  as  soon  as  he  closed  his  eyes. 

No  one,  not  even  Kit  Carson,  thought  that  the 
Indians  would  dare  to  attack  them  now  that  there 
were  sixteen  armed  men  in  the  camp,  and  all  were 
worn-out  with  the  day's  hard  ride;  consequently, 
for  the  first  and  only  time  when  in  the  Indian  coun- 
try, Fremont  suffered  his  vigilance  and  discipline  to 
relax,  and  required  no  guards  to  be  stationed  that 
night.  He  himself  expected  to  sit  up  late,  reading 
his  letters  and  papers  and  pondering  over  them,  and 
would  keep  a  watchful  eye  over  his  tired  and  sleep- 


The  Hoot  of  an  Owl  31 

ing  men.  Therefore,  when  their  rifles  were  cleaned 
and  their  pipes  smoked,  all  the  men  rolled  them- 
selves up  in  their  blankets  around  the  fires  and  soon 
were  sleeping,  as  only  those  who  live  the  outdoor 
life  as  they  were  living  it  can  sleep. 

Kit  Carson  was  one  of  the  last  men  to  lie  down. 
While  cleaning  his  rifle  he  had  broken  the  cap-tube 
and  had  spent  considerable  time  vainly  trying  to  fix 
it.  He  did  not  wish  to  go  to  sleep  with  a  useless 
gun  by  his  side. 

"Shucks,  let  her  go  till  mornin',  Kit,"  at  last  Ham 
had  impatiently  advised  from  his  blanket.  "Thar 
ain't  spunk  enough  in  all  the  Ingines  in  these  moun- 
tains tew  attack  sixteen  armed  white  men,  sech  as 
we  be,  even  at  night,  so,  I  reckon,  you  won't  be 
needin'  th'  gun  afore  then,  an'  I  can't  sleep  with 
your  tinkerin'  soundin'  in  my  ears." 

"I  can  always  sleep  more  comfortable-like,  when 
I  know  there  is  a  loaded  rifle  by  my  side,  even  if 
there  is  no  danger,"  Carson  replied.  "And  you 
can't  always  count  on  just  what  Indians  will  do; 
but,  I  reckon,  we're  safe  enough  for  the  night,  so 
I'll  wait  to  fix  the  gun  till  morning,"  and  he  laid 
the  rifle  down  and  prepared  his  bed. 

"Poor  little  fellow !"  he  thought,  as  he  glanced  to 
where  Thure  lay  sound  asleep.  "  'Twas  a  mighty 
hard  ride  for  muscles  as  young  as  yours  to  stand, 
and,  I  reckon,  you  are  plumb  tired  out;  but  you've 
got  real  pluck,  the  real  Conroyal  pluck.  Never  a 
grunt  nor  a  growl  from  your  lips  all  day.  Well, 


32  Fighting  With  Fremont 

you  may  need  it  before  long,"  he  continued 
musingly,  as  he  spread  out  his  blanket  on  the 
ground;  "for,  unless  I  misread  the  signs,  there's 
going  to  be  trouble  in  California  soon.  I  know 
that  look  on  Fremont's  face,"  and  he  turned  his 
eyes  to  where  Fremont  still  sat  pondering  over  his 
letters  and  papers  by  the  bright  light  of  his  camp- 
fire,  "and  it  means  that  he  is  planning  how  to  work 
out  some  difficult  problem  that'll  take  a  lot  of  grit 
and  thinking  to  master.  But  I'll  trust  the  Captain 
to  work  it  out  right,  now  that  Lieutenant  Gillespie 
has  given  him  the  key,  which,  I  take  it,  was  the 
reason  why  he  was  so  anxious  to  find  him,"  and, 
with  a  final  swift  glance  around  the  sleeping  en- 
campment, to  assure  himself  that  everything  was 
all  right,  Kit  Carson  wrapped  himself  up  in  his 
blanket  and  lay  down  by  the  side  of  Ham. 

All  in  the  camp  were  now  asleep  but  Fremont, 
who  still  sat  on  the  log  by  the  fire,  reading  his  let- 
ters and  papers,  doubtless  thinking  of  home  and 
dear  ones  and  the  troubled  future  that  loomed  dark 
and  threatening  before  him.  Hour  after  hour 
passed  and  still  he  sat  there,  a  subject  for  a  poet, 
a  picture  for  an  artist,  with  the  ruddy  light  of  the 
camp-fire  playing  upon  his  face  and  form,  solitary 
in  the  midst  of  the  encircling  gloom  and  mystery 
of  the  night  and  the  wilderness.  The  camp-fires 
of  his  men  burnt  low,  until  they  were  but  beds  of 
glowing  coals,  his  own  he  kept  bright  by  constant 
replenishings.  But,  at  last,  even  his  tireless  soul 


ALL   IN   THE  CAMP,    SAVE   FREMONT,    WERE   NOW   ASLEEP 


The  Hoot  of  an  Owl  33 

yielded  to  the  weariness  of  his  mind  and  body,  and 
gathering  up  his  precious  letters  and  papers,  he 
stood  for  a  moment  silently  contemplating  the 
peaceful  scene  of  his  sleeping  camp;  and  then  he, 
too,  spread  out  his  blanket  on  the  ground,  wrapped 
himself  up  in  it  and  lay  down. 

For  some  reason,  in  spite  of  his  weariness,  or, 
possibly,  because  of  it,  Thure  Conroyal's  sleep  was 
broken  and  restless.  Once,  long  after  midnight, 
the  hoot  of  an  owl,  sounding  weirdly  from  the 
depths  of  the  surrounding  darkness,  awoke  him. 
He  partly  arose  and,  leaning  on  one  hand,  looked 
around.  All  was  still  in  the  camp.  The  fires 
looked  like  huge  red  eyes,  glaring  out  of  the  black- 
ness. He  saw,  or  thought  he  saw,  a  shadowy 
something  glide  from  near  one  of  the  red  eyes  and 
vanish  swiftly  into  the  darkness.  Again  he  heard 
the  hoot  of  an  owl,  sounding  low  and  warningly; 
and,  for  a  moment,  he  shuddered  apprehensively 
and  wondered  if  he  had  not  better  awaken  Kit 
Carson  or  one  of  the  men  and  tell  him  what  he  had 
seen  and  heard.  But,  what  had  he  seen  and  heard  ? 
— a  shadow  and  the  hoot  of  an  owl!  Surely  Kit 
Carson  would  laugh  at  him!  Might  think  that  he 
was  afraid!  No,  he  would  not  awaken  anyone. 
He  would  watch  and  listen  for  a  few  minutes;  and 
then,  if  he  heard  or  saw  nothing  more  suspicious, 
he  would  lie  down  again. 

For  ten  minutes  Thure  sat,  leaning  on  his  hand, 
looking  and  listening.  Only  the  natural  sounds  of 


34  Fighting  With  Fremont 

the  night  and  the  wilderness  broke  the  silence.  The 
camp-fires  had  burned  so  low  that  they  gave  but 
little  light  now.  He  could  scarcely  distinguish  the 
outlines  of  the  forms  of  Basil  Lajeunesse  and  the 
Delaware  Indians,  who  lay  stretched  out  on  the 
ground  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  fire.  Not  a  sus- 
picious movement,  not  a  suspicious  sound  any- 
where. 

"Silly,  scart  by  a  shadow!  It's  lucky  for  you 
that  you  did  not  awaken  Kit  Carson,"  and,  with  this 
consoling  thought,  Thure  sank  back  on  his  blanket 
and  closed  his  eyes. 

For  a  long  time  he  could  not  go  to  sleep.  Then, 
just  as  his  thoughts  began  wandering  in  the  borders 
of  dreamland,  he  heard  a  queer  sound,  like  the 
"chuck"  of  an  ax  striking  into  something  soft. 
Drowsily  he  wondered  what  the  sound  was — won- 
dered if  he  had  really  heard  it  or  had  just  dreamed 
it.  Again  came  the  strange  sound — this  time 
sounding  nearer  and  more  distinct.  Surely  that 
was  no  dream!  With  a  violent  start  he  opened 
his  eyes,  and  saw  something  dark  and  terrible 
leaning  over  him.  At  the  same  moment  he  heard 
Kit  Carson  call  out  to  Basil  Lajeunesse  on  the 
other  side  of  the  camp-fire:  "What's  the  matter 
there?  What's  the  fuss  about?"  and  then  he  saw 
something  bright,  that  glistened  in  the  firelight, 
descending  swiftly  toward  his  head,  and,  involun- 
tarily, jerked  his  head  and  shoulders  violently  to 
one  side,  just  in  time  to  avoid  the  blade  of  a  toma- 


The  Hoot  of  an  Owl  35 

hawk  that  buried  itself  in  the  wood  of  his  saddle- 
tree at  the  exact  spot  where  his  head  had  been. 
Before  the  blow  could  be  repeated,  "Indians!  In- 
dians!" rang  out  the  startled  cries  of  Kit  Carson 
and  Dick  Owens;  and  every  man  in  camp  leaped 
to  his  feet — all  except  two,  who  lay  still.  They 
would  never  move  again. 

Thure  never  knew  how  he  got  on  his  feet.  The 
first  thing  he  did  know  his  rifle  was  to  his  shoulder 
and  he  was  firing  blindly  at  a  tall  Klamath  chief, 
who,  at  the  head  of  his  followers,  was  charging  the 
four  Delaware  Indians,  whom  the  cries  of  Carson 
and  Owens  had  awakened.  His  ball  missed  the 
chief.  He  saw  one  of  the  Delawares  catch  up  a 
gun,  as  he  leaped  to  his  feet,  and  attempt  to  fire 
it ;  but,  unfortunately,  it  was  unloaded.  He  saw  an 
arrow  strike  the  breast  of  the  Delaware;  but  still 
the  brave  fellow  fought  on,  threatening  with  his 
empty  gun.  In  another  instant  a  dozen  arrows 
had  struck  the  Delaware,  and  he  went  down, 
with  three  arrows  in  his  heart.  Then  with  a 
rush  Carson  and  Fremont  and  the  others  sprang 
to  the  aid  of  the  Delawares.  Carson  pulled  a 
pistol  from  his  belt — you  will  remember  that  his 
rifle  was  useless,  and  fired  at  the  chief.  But,  so 
swiftly  did  the  Klamath  dodge,  that  the  ball  only 
cut  the  string  that  held  the  tomahawk  to  its  red 
owner's  arm,  and  the  chief  continued  to  shoot  his 
deadly  arrows.  Dick  Owens  fired  and  struck  him 
in  the  leg;  and  then,  just  as  the  brave  fellow  was 


36  Fighting  With  Fremont 

turning  to  run,  a  ball  from  Hammer  Jones'  rifle 
passed  through  his  heart  and  he  tumbled  headlong 
to  the  ground.  At  the  fall  of  their  chief  the  re- 
maining Klamaths  lost  heart,  and  swiftly  vanished 
in  every  direction  into  the  darkness,  before  the 
bullets  of  the  now  thoroughly  aroused  mountain- 
eers could  do  further  execution. 

Basil  Lajeunesse  lay  dead,  killed  instantly  while 
he  slept  by  the  blow  of  a  tomahawk  on  his  head; 
and  by  his  side  lay  one  of  the  Delaware  Indians, 
slain  in  the  same  manner.  This,  with  the  other 
Delaware  killed  while  fighting  so  bravely,  made 
three  men  dead  by  the  axes  and  arrows  of  the 
Klamaths,  while  an  arrow  had  wounded  one  of  the 
other  Delawares.  Of  the  Klamaths,  the  brave 
chief  shot  by  Hammer  Jones  alone  lay  dead.  All 
the  others  had  escaped  unhurt;  and  it  was  a  very 
sad  and  a  very  wrathful  group  of  men  that  gath- 
ered around  the  dead  bodies  of  the  two  Delawares 
and  the  still  form  of  brave  Basil  Lajeunesse,  who 
had  been  with  Fremont  on  his  two  other  exploring 
expeditions  and  was  one  of  his  most  trusted  men. 

"Durned  if  I  don't  feel  like  wipin'  off  the  earth 
every  treacherous  Klamath  that  breathes,"  Ham- 
mer Jones  muttered  savagely,  as  his  eyes  rested  on 
the  bloody  form  of  the  man  who  had  been  his  good 
comrade  through  so  many  hardships  and  perils. 
"He  always  stood  by  a  comrade,  an'  was  brave  an' 
honest,  an'  I  never  knowed  him  tew  shirk  no  duty 
or  tew  act  low  down  an'  mean  tew  a  fellow  human. 


The  Hoot  of  an  Owl  37 

Wai,  he's  dead ;  an'  'tain't  no  use  of  sayin'  nuthin'," 
and,  with  a  gloomy  shake  of  his  head,  Ham  turned 
away,  having  pronounced  in  his  homely  words  a 
most  fitting  eulogy  of  the  dead  mountaineer. 

The  Klamath  chief  lay  where  he  had  fallen,  a 
fine  stalwart-looking  fellow  even  in  death.  Forty 
arrows  were  still  in  his  quiver,  the  most  beautiful 
and  warlike  arrows  that  even  Kit  Carson  had  ever 
seen.  He  must  have  been  one  of  the  bravest  of 
the  Klamath  chiefs,  judging  from  his  dress  and  his 
heroic  death.  Even  his  white  enemies  admired  the 
courage  he  had  shown.  The  blade  of  the  toma- 
hawk that  lay  near  where  he  had  fallen  was  stained 
red  with  blood ;  and,  doubtless,  it  was  his  hand  that 
had  struck  the  fatal  blows  in  the  darkness  and 
silence  of  the  sleeping  camp. 

"He  was  as  brave  an  Indian  as  I  ever  saw," 
Kit  Carson  said,  as  he  stood  looking  down  on  the 
dead  body;  "and,  if  his  warriors  had  been  equally 
bold,  they  would  have  got  us  all  before  we  would 
have  been  sufficiently  awake  to  defend  ourselves," 
and  his  face  whitened  at  the  horror  of  the  thought 
of  such  a  massacre. 

"Sart'in  'twas  a  powerful  narrer  squeeze  for  all 
on  us ;  but —  Wai,  I'll  be  durned !"  and  Ham  bent 
quickly  over  Thure's  saddle  and,  when  he  straight- 
ened up,  he  held  high  in  his  hand  an  Indian  toma- 
hawk that  he  had  found  driven  deep  into  the  wood 
of  the  saddle.  "Now,  look  at  that!  An'  stickin' 
right  in  th'  spot  whar  th'  boy's  head  lay!  Wai,  I'll 


38  Fighting  With  Fremont 

be  tee-totally  durned!"  and  his  astounded  eyes 
anxiously  sought  the  face  of  Thure,  as  if  he  could 
hardly  believe  the  evidences  of  his  own  senses. 
"How  did  that  git  thar?" 

"I  just  opened  my  eyes  in  time  to  see  the  toma- 
hawk ready  to  strike,  and  it  scart  me  so  that  I 
jumped  so  quick  that  my  head  got  out  of  the  way 
before  it  hit;  and  then  Kit  Carson  began  yelling 
Indians,  and  the  Indian  got  so  frightened  that  he 
didn't  stop  to  pull  out  his  tomahawk.  I  want  to 
keep  that  tomahawk  to  show  dad  and  Dill,"  and 
Thure  reached  out  his  hand  for  the  weapon. 

"Wai,  I'll  be  durned!"  ejaculated  Ham  for  the 
third  time,  as  he  handed  the  boy  the  tomahawk. 
"You  sart'in  are  your  dad's  own  son!" 

No  attempt  was  made  to  follow  the  Klamaths. 
It  would  have  been  impossible  in  the  darkness. 
But  you  may  be  sure  that  a  guard  was  stationed; 
and  every  man  lay  with  his  rifle  cocked,  expecting 
another  attack,  until  morning.  They  were  not  the 
kind  of  men  to  be  caught  twice  in  the  same  kind  of 
a  trap. 


CHAPTER  IV 

A   WILDERNESS    BURIAL 

THE  night  passed  with  no  further  trouble  from 
the  Klamaths.  Evidently  they  had  not  learned 
of  the  coming  of  Fremont  and  his  men  and  had 
expected  to  find  only  Lieutenant  Gillespie  and  his 
small  party  sleeping  around  the  camp-fires;  and, 
probably,  the  result  of  the  attack  was  almost  as 
great  a  surprise  to  them  as  it  was  to  our  friends. 
At  any  rate  not  a  sign  nor  a  sound  was  seen  nor 
heard  of  them  again  that  night. 

There  was  gloom  and  sadness  on  every  face, 
when,  in  the  gray  dawn  of  the  early  morning,  they 
began  to  prepare  to  leave  that  odious  and  blood- 
stained spot;  and  in  each  heart  was  the  determina- 
tion to  punish,  if  possible,  the  treacherous  savages. 
Theirs  was  the  stern  creed  of  the  mountains  and 
the  plains,  the  rough  law  of  the  wilderness,  where 
human  life  could  only  be  protected  and  rendered 
safe  by  bringing  swift  and  certain  punishment  upon 
all  who  violated  its  sanctity.  Then,  too,  some  of 
these  same  Indians  had  been  in  Fremont's  camp 
only  a  few  days  before,  hungry  and  asking  for 
food ;  and,  although  he  had  had  but  two  days'  meat 
on  hand,  with  the  prospect  of  soon  being  obliged 
39 


4O  Fighting  With  Fremont 

to  eat  mule  meat,  he  had  divided  with  them  and  had 
even  had  a  mule  unpacked  to  give  them  some  to- 
bacco and  knives;  and  the  remembrance  of  this 
added  fuel  to  their  anger.  Indeed,  so  intense  was 
this  feeling  that  punishment  must  be  meted  out  to 
the  Klamaths,  that  even  the  importance  of  the  mis- 
sion of  Lieutenant  Gillespie  was  partly  forgotten 
for  the  moment. 

"Do  you  think  Kit  Carson  and  Captain  Fremont 
are  planning  to  punish  the  Klamaths?"  Thure 
asked,  as  he  and  Rex  sat  down  to  their  hastily  pre- 
pared breakfast.  "I  heard  Kit  Carson  say  that  he 
did  not  think  there  were  more  than  fifteen  or  twenty 
Indians  in  the  attack  last  night,  and  we  got  their 
chief.  It  don't  seem  like  what  I've  heard  of  Kit 
Carson  to  let  a  thing  like  that,"  and  Thure  glanced 
to  where  the  three  dead  bodies  lay  side  by  side,  cov- 
ered with  a  blanket,  "go  unpunished." 

"No,  it  is  not  like  Kit  Carson,  and  it  is  not  like 
Fremont,  and  it  is  not  like  any  one  of  us  to  let  the 
death  of  Basil  Lajeunesse,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
two  Delawares,  go  unpunished,"  and  a  glint  of 
savagery  came  into  the  blue  eyes  of  Rex.  "But 
we  must  first  get  back  to  the  main  body;  and  then 
you  will  see  whether  or  not  Fremont  and  Carson 
have  forgotten  what  happened  last  night.  You'll 
find  we'll  take  the  back  trail  at  once." 

Rex  was  right;  for,  before  he  and  Thure  had 
finished  their  breakfast,  the  order  came  for  all  to 


A  Wilderness  Burial  41 

saddle  up  and  be  prepared  to  start  back  along  the 
trail  at  once. 

"We  are  going  to  get  back  to  the  main  body  as 
soon  as  we  can,"  Kit  Carson  said ;  "and  then,  after 
we've  buried  our  dead,  the  Captain  has  promised 
that  we  can  attend  to  the  Klamaths." 

Accordingly,  the  three  bodies  were  tied  on  the 
backs  of  mules,  and  the  start  back  along  the  trail 
begun  as  promptly  as  possible. 

Fremont  did  not  wish  to  bury  the  dead  until  all 
were  present;  but,  after  having  gone  some  ten 
miles  and  rinding  it  impossible  to  get  the  bodies 
through  the  thick  timbers  and  underbrush,  with- 
out the  sharp  limbs  tearing  their  flesh  and  other- 
wise disfiguring  them,  he  ordered  a  halt ;  and  there, 
in  the  midst  of  a  great  forest,  they  reverently  and 
sadly  left  their  comrades.  No  grave  was  dug. 
They  had  nothing  to  dig  one  with  in  that  hard  and 
rocky  soil.  But  the  bodies  were  hidden  in  as 
secret  a  place  as  possible ;  and  then  logs  and  chunks 
of  wood  were  piled  on  top  of  them,  to  keep  the 
wolves  away  and  to  hide  them  from  the  eyes  of 
their  red  enemies. 

"It  seems  terrible  to  leave  them  like  that,"  Thure 
said,  his  voice  choking,  as  the  little  company  of 
men  resumed  their  march,  "where  their  relatives 
and  friends  can  never  find  them,  with  no  sign  to 
show  that  the  dead  lie  buried  there." 

"Yes,  it  does  seem  a  bit  terrible,"  Rex  answered. 


42  Fighting  With  Fremont 

"And  yet,"  he  added  thoughtfully  as  he  looked 
around  him,  "you  could  not  have  found  a  more  fit- 
ting resting-place  for  the  bold  spirit  of  Basil  La- 
jeunesse.  He  loved  the  great  forests  and  mighty 
mountains.  For  years  they  have  been  his  home; 
and  now  he  is  at  rest  in  their  midst.  And,  as  for 
the  two  Delawares,  their  wild  spirits  would  not 
know  what  to  do  if  their  bodies  were  buried  in 
a  regular  white-tombstoned  graveyard.  They'll 
sleep  better  where  the  wild  winds  of  the  mountains 
blow  and  the  great  trees  croon  above  them." 

A  little  before  dark  that  day  the  two  parties  met, 
&nd  at  once  went  into  camp  for  the  night. 

The  deaths  of  Basil  Lajeunesse  and  the  two 
Delaware  Indians  hung,  like  a  cloak  of  gloom, 
around  the  spirits  of  every  man  in  camp.  Many 
of  them  had  been  comrades  of  Basil  Lajeunesse  for 
years,  and  the  two  Indians  had  won  the  respect  of 
all  by  their  courage  and  faithfulness;  and  the 
thought  that  the  sudden  and  murderous  taking  off 
of  these  men  was  yet  unavenged  rankled  in  every 
breast.  Then  they  knew  that,  if  this  treacherous 
deed  of  the  Klamaths  was  allowed  to  go  unpun- 
ished, no  small  party  of  whites  would  be  safe 
within  reach  of  their  murderous  tomahawks.  The 
future  protection  of  other  white  men  that  might 
wander  into  this  region,  as  well  as  their  own  natu- 
ral feelings  of  resentment  and  anger,  demanded  of 
them  the  punishment  of  these  bold  marauders ;  and, 
judging  from  the  stern  faces  and  the  muttered 


A  Wilderness  Burial  43 

imprecations  of  the  men,  who  gathered  in  groups 
around  the  camp-fires  as  soon  as  the  camp-work 
was  done  to  brood  over  the  horror  of  the  night 
before  and  to  plan  how  best  to  punish  the  Klamaths, 
there  would  be  no  laggards  in  this  work  of  retri- 
bution. 

Kit  Carson,  Dick  Owens,  Rex  Holt,  Hammer 
Jones  and  a  few  others  of  the  most  experienced  of 
the  mountaineers  gathered  in  a  group  by  them- 
selves to  discuss  the  measures  to  be  taken  on  the 
morrow.  Thure  was  a  silent,  as  was  befitting  his 
age,  but  an  eagerly-listening  member  of  this  group 
of  veteran  Indian  fighters. 

"I  have  had  a  talk  with  Captain  Fremont,"  Kit 
Carson  said.  "The  Captain  and  Lieutenant  Gil- 
lespie  are  very  anxious  to  get  back  to  California 
as  quickly  as  possible.  They  both  appear  to  think 
that  our  American  rifles  might  be  needed  back  there. 
But  the  Captain  is  as  anxious  as  we  are  to  punish 
the  Klamaths  before  going;  and  he  has  agreed  to 
return  to  California  by  a  different  route  that  will 
take  us  around  on  the  other  side  of  Lake  Klamath, 
near  where  we  think  the  Klamath  village  is  situ- 
ated, in  order  to  give  us  the  chance  to  punish  the 
Klamaths  in  a  way  that  they  will  not  forget.  We 
start  at  daybreak  to-morrow.  Now  I  have  been 
thinking,"  and  Kit  Carson  paused  to  glance  around 
his  small  circle  of  deeply  interested  listeners,  "that 
it  would  be  a  good  idea  to  leave  a  dozen  or  so  men 
hidden  here,  where  they  could  watch,  when  we 


44  Fighting  With  Fremont 

break  camp  in  the  morning.  Some  of  the  Indians 
will  be  almost  sure  to  visit  our  camping  place  as 
soon  as  they  think  we  are  gone,  in  the  hopes  of 
finding  something  useful  to  them  that  we  have  left 
behind  and  for  the  purpose  of  following  on  along 
our  trail,  so  as  not  to  lose  track  of  us;  and  we  can 
get  them,  and  stop  their  trailing  us,  at  least  for  the 
present." 

"Bully!"  broke  in  Ham,  bringing  his  great  hand 
down  on  his  broad  knee  with  a  clap  that  resounded 
throughout  the  encampment.  "That's  a  bully  idea, 
Kit.  Jest  count  me  in  for  one  of  th'  men  tew  stay 
ahind  tew  watch  for  them  Ingines.  I  ain't  natu- 
rally none  bloodthirsty,  but  them  vermint  that 
murdered  Basil  while  he  slept  ain't  deseryin'  of  no 
human  mercy  an'  a  leetle  bloodlettin'  will  do  'em 
a  sight  of  good.  So  jest  count  me  in  that  blood- 
lettin' party,  Kit." 

"And  me,"  entreated  Rex  Holt  and  Dick  Owens 
and  the  others,  almost  in  one  voice. 

"The  Captain  will  have  to  determine  who  is  to 
be  left  behind,"  Kit  Carson  replied.  "But,  I 
reckon,  none  of  you  here  will  be  disappointed,"  he 
added  with  a  grim  smile.  "Now  to  your  blankets, 
for  the  Captain  has  ordered  the  breaking  of  camp 
in  the  morning  as  soon  as  it  is  light  enough  to  see. 
I  am  going  to  bed.  Good  night,"  and,  picking  up 
his  blanket,  Kit  Carson  retired  to  where  the  bright 
light  of  the  fire  could  not  fall  upon  him,  a  precau- 
tion that  he  always  took  when  in  the  Indian  coun- 


A  Wilderness  Burial  45 

try,  and,  spreading  out  his  blanket  on  the  ground 
and  carefully  rolling  himself  up  in  it,  he  lay  down 
to  sleep  as  peacefully  and  as  comfortably  as  you 
do  in  your  soft  beds  and  under  your  warm  roofs. 

The  others  at  once  followed  his  example;  and 
soon  all  in  the  camp,  save  the  watchful  guards, 
were  sleeping  soundly. 

The  next  morning  Thure  awoke  to  find  Beauty, 
Fremont's  negro,  Jacob  Dodson  by  right  of  his 
own  name,  bending  over  him,  his  black  face 
wrinkled  up  in  what  he  evidently  meant  for  a  pleas- 
ant smile  of  greeting. 

"  'Cuse  me,  Massah  Thure,"  he  said,  "fo'  wakin' 
yo'  befo'  yo'  wake  yo'self;  but  de  Captain  done 
wants  to  see  yo'  immediately.  He's  ober  yondah 
on  de  big  log,"  and  he  pointed  to  where  Captain 
Fremont  and  Lieutenant  Gillespie  sat  on  a  large 
log  eating  their  breakfast. 

"Goodness!"  and  Thure  jumped  to  his  feet  and 
stared  around  him,  surprised  to  find  the  whole 
camp  up  and  nearly  ready  for  breakfast,  "what  a 
sleepyhead  I  am!  All  right,  Beaut.  Tell  Captain 
Fremont  that  I  will  be  with  him  just  as  soon  as  I 
wash  the  sleepyseeds  out  of  my  eyes,"  and,  quickly 
slipping  into  the  few  clothes  he  had  taken  off  for  the 
night,  he  made  a  dash  for  the  little  stream  of  water 
near  which  the  camp  was  pitched,  wondering 
greatly  what  it  was  that  Captain  Fremont  wished  to 
see  him  about. 

Captain  Fremont  greeted  Thure  cordially,  and, 


46  Fighting  With  Fremont 

with  a  smile,  bade  him  be  seated  by  his  side  at  the 
breakfast  table  and  join  in  the  meal  with  them. 

"I  am  told,"  he  said,  the  moment  Thure  was 
seated  on  the  log,  with  a  chunk  of  roast  meat  in 
one  hand  and  a  steaming  cup  of  coffee  in  the  other, 
"that  you  are  the  son  of  Noel  Conroyal,  who  has  a 
large  ranch  in  the  Sacramento  Valley,  and  that  you 
have  lived  there  for  some  five  years." 

"Yes,  sir.  It  was  in  1841  that  father  moved 
from  New  Orleans  to  California  and  settled  in  the 
Sacramento  Valley,  where  we  have  been  living 
ever  since,"  Thure  replied. 

"Then  you  know  nearly  all  the  American  settlers 
in  the  Valley,"  Fremont  continued. 

"Yes,  sir.  At  least  all  except  a  few  who  have 
moved  in  lately  and  settled  a  good  many  miles  north 
of  us." 

"About  how  many  American  settlers  are  there 
who  would  fight  for  their  flag,  should  there  be 
need?" 

"Every  man  of  them  who  had  strength  enough 
to  lift  his  rifle  to  his  shoulder,"  and  Thure's  face 
flushed.  "We  all  love  the  old  flag  and  are  ready 
to  fight  for  it  whenever  it  needs  our  help." 

"You  misunderstood  me,"  and  Fremont  smiled, 
while  his  dark  eyes  kindled.  "I  did  not  mean  to 
question  your  patriotism.  I  take  for  granted  that 
every  American  in  the  Valley  able  to  carry  a  rifle 
will  rally  round  the  old  flag,  when  the  time  comes. 


A  Wilderness  Burial  47 

What  I  wish  to  know  is,  as  near  as  you  can  tell, 
the  number  of  fighting  men  in  the  Valley." 

"Oh!"  and  the  flush  on  Thure's  face  deepened. 
"Of  course,  I  can't  tell  exactly ;  but,"  and  he  paused 
for  a  moment  to  calculate,  "I  should  think  there 
must  be  in  the  Sacramento  Valley  at  least  two  hun- 
dred Americans  able  and  willing  to  fight  for  our 
flag,  if  they  had  good  cause." 

"And  every  one  of  these  accustomed  to  the  use 
of  a  rifle,"  and  Fremont's  face  brightened,  as  he 
turned  quickly  to  Lieutenant  Gillespie.  "With  my 
men  added,  we  can  defy  all  the  Mexican  soldiers  in 
California.  Now,"  and  he  again  turned  to  Thure, 
"do  you  know  anything  about  how  the  Californians 
themselves  around  where  you  live  feel  toward  the 
United  States?" 

"I  know  some  of  them  are  mad  enough  at  Mex- 
ico and  the  way  she  has  governed  us  for  the  past 
few  years  to  welcome  almost  any  kind  of  a  change ; 
and,  if  it  came  to  a  fight,  we'd  have  some  of  the 
leading  Californians  with  us.  I  have  heard  them 
talking  with  dad.  Dad  has  been  hoping  something 
would  happen  to  cause  the  United  States  to  take 
California  ever  since  we  settled  in  the  Sacramento 
Valley.  He  says  the  country  can  never  amount  to 
anything  as  long  as  Mexico  rules  it:  but,  once  let 
the  United  States  get  hold  of  it,  and  everything 
will  jump." 

"Those  are  exactly  our  sentiments,"   Fremont 


48  Fighting  With  Fremont 

agreed,  laughing.  "And  it  now  begins  to  look  as 
if  that  something  was  about  to  happen,"  he  added, 
his  face  sobering.  "But,  I  see  that  the  men  are 
almost  ready  to  break  camp,  and  we  must  bestir 
ourselves,  if  we  would  not  be  left  behind.  Thank 
you,  my  boy.  Now  get  back  to  your  comrades," 
and,  rising  from  the  log,  he  signified  that  the  inter- 
view was  over. 

"Can  I,"  and  Thure  hesitated,  while  his  eyes 
pleadingly  sought  Fremont's  face. 

"Well?"  and  Fremont  smiled.     "Out  with  it." 

"Can  I  remain  with  the  men  who  are  to  watch 
for  the  Indians?  I — " 

"No,"  and  the  smile  left  Fremont's  face.  "My 
boy/'  and  he  laid  a  kindly  hand  on  Thure's 
shoulder,  "it  is  a  terrible  thing  to  kill  a  human 
being  under  any  circumstances,  even  one  of  these 
poor  misguided  Indians ;  and  only  the  stern  neces- 
sities of  the  wilderness  justifies  me  in  thus  taking 
the  law  into  my  own  hands.  Keep  your  young  life 
as  free  from  sights  of  death  as  possible.  Now 
hurry,  or  you  will  not  be  ready  to  start  with  the 
command." 

Thure  ran  at  once  to  his  horse  and  soon  had  the 
saddle  on  his  back. 

As  he  stood  by  the  side  of  the  horse  waiting  the 
command  to  mount,  he  saw  fifteen  men,  with  Dick 
Owens  at  their  head,  glide  swiftly  and  silently  into 
the  surrounding  forest;  and  knew  that  the  deadly 
trap  was  about  to  be  set.  No  one  appeared  to  take 


A  Wilderness  Burial  49 

any  notice  of  the  disappearance  of  these  men;  and 
a  minute  later  Fremont  gave  the  command  to 
mount,  and,  in  another  minute,  the  cavalcade  was 
winding  its  way  through  the  natural  lanes  of  the 
forest ;  and  the  march  back  to  California  had  begun. 

Fremont,  whenever  possible,  always  had  Kit 
Carson  ride  near  him  at  the  head  of  his  command, 
where  he  would  have  his  experience  and  skill  con- 
stantly at  his  service;  and,  on  this  morning,  much 
to  Carson's  regret,  he  had  declined  to  allow  him  to 
remain  with  the  men  left  to  punish  the  Klamaths, 
but  had  placed  them  in  charge  of  Dick  Owens. 
Consequently,  Thure,  a  little  to  his  surprise,  found 
Carson  by  the  side  of  Fremont,  when  he  galloped 
to  his  place  in  the  ranks  behind  Fremont's  body- 
guard of  Delaware  Indians.  His  cousin,  Rex 
Holt,  and  Hammer  Jones,  however,  were  nowhere 
in  sight;  and  he  knew  that  they  had  had  their 
wishes  granted  and  had  formed  a  part  of  the  fifteen 
men  he  had  seen  vanish  so  swiftly  and  silently  into 
the  surrounding  forest. 

Very  little  was  said  as  the  cavalcade  rode  slowly 
on  through  the  woods.  All  the  men  appeared  to 
be  listening  anxiously;  and  every  now  and  then 
those  in  the  rear  would  turn  to  look  backward. 
Thure's  own  heart  was  beating  rapidly,  and  he  was 
constantly  turning  in  his  saddle  and  glancing  back 
along  the  trail,  while  he  started  at  every  sudden 
sound.  Presently,  from  the  silence  of  the  woods 
behind  them,  there  came  the  distant  sharp  crack  of 


50  Fighting  With  Fremont 

a  rifle — a  moment  later  the  report  of  another  rifle; 
and  then  all  was  still. 

"Thar,  that's  two  of  th'  vermints,"  declared  a 
big  mountaineer,  who  rode  near  Thure. 

An  hour  later  the  fifteen  men  caught  up  with  the 
main  body. 

"Did  you — did  you  see  any  Indians?"  queried 
Thure,  as  Rex  and  Hammer  Jones  fell  into  their 
places  near  him. 

"Two ;  and  the  Delawares  have  got  their  scalps," 
answered  Rex  grimly. 

"Tell  me  about  it,"  pled  Thure,  his  young  face 
flushing. 

"Nothing  to  tell,"  Rex  replied.  "We  just  saw 
the  two  Klamaths  nose  round  the  camp  for  a  little 
while,  and  then  start  off  to  follow  your  trail.  So 
Ham  and  Dick  Owens  shot  them;  and  the  Dela- 
wares took  their  scalps.  But  that  don't  even  up 
our  account  against  them,  not  by  the  Eternal 
Andrew  Jackson !" 

"No,  not  by  the  long-eared  Ananias,  it  don't!" 
growled  Ham.  "But  jest  wait  till  we  get  'tother 
side  of  th'  lake,  whar  their  village  is,  an',  I  reckon, 
we'll  be  doin'  some  squarin'  of  accounts  that'll  make 
them  Klamaths  do  a  lot  of  thinkin'  afore  they  mur- 
der another  white  man." 

Very  little  excitement  was  caused  by  the  killing 
of  the  two  Indians.  The  men  smiled  grimly,  as  they 
listened  to  the  story  of  their  deaths ,  and  then  their 


A  Wilderness  Burial  51 

lips  drew  together  tightly  and  they  gave  their  at- 
tention to  the  business  before  them. 

The  route  of  our  friends  now  lay  along  the 
shores  of  Lake  Klamath,  northward  until  its  north- 
ernmost point  was  reached;  and  then,  swinging 
round  to  the  other  side  of  the  lake,  they  turned 
southward.  For  a  number  of  days  they  traveled 
on  through  the  solitudes  of  these  mighty  forests, 
over  rugged  mountains,  down  into  deep  canyons, 
and  across  beautiful  valleys,  going  very  slowly  on 
account  of  the  pack-mules  and  the  roughness;  and 
then,  one  night,  they  camped  on  the  banks  of  a  wild 
mountain  stream  that  poured  its  cold  waters  into 
Lake  Klamath  a  short  distance  away. 

They  were  now  in  the  region  where  they  expected 
to  find  the  Klamath  village;  and  the  greatest  pre- 
caution was  taken  to  keep  the  knowledge  of  their 
presence  from  the  enemy.  No  fires  were  built,  no 
lights  were  lit  and  all  were  cautioned  to  make  as 
little  noise  as  possible.  No  one  was  allowed  even 
to  smoke  a  pipe,  for  fear  the  odor  of  the  tobacco 
smoke  might  betray  them.  A  double  guard  was 
stationed  all  around  the  camp.  The  men  gathered 
in  small  groups  and  talked  in  low  voices  until  it 
was  time  to  roll  themselves  up  in  their  blankets  and 
go  to  sleep,  then  all  lay  down,  and  soon  their  heavy 
breathings  told  that  all  had  yielded  to  the  sway  of 
Morpheus. 

This  was  the  first  night  that  Thure  had  passed 


52  Fighting  With  Fremont 

in  camp  without  the  friendly  glow  of  a  camp-fire  to 
brighten  the  gloom  of  the  wilderness;  and  the 
silence  and  mystery  and  might  of  the  great  dark- 
ness awed  his  spirits  and  fascinated  his  young 
imagination.  For  half  an  hour  after  all  the  others 
in  camp  had  gone  to  sleep,  he  lay  staring  wonder- 
ingly  out  into  the  blackness  that  he  could  now 
easily  believe  might  be  peopled  with  all  the  horrible 
hobgoblins  of  childish  fancyings,  and  listening, 
with  shivering  apprehension,  to  the  weird  sounds 
that  broke  a  stillness  even  more  awesome  than  the 
sounds  themselves.  Not  that  he  was  really  afraid, 
only  the  darkness  and  mystery  and  wildness  of  it 
all  had  thrown  him  into  that  peculiar  mood,  so 
common  to  the  young,  when  the  veil  between 
reality  and  fancy  is  lifted  and  all  the  shivering 
horrors  and  delightful  wonders  of  the  imagination 
become  possibilities.  But,  at  last,  even  his  excited 
imagination  became  quiet,  and  he  slept. 


CHAPTER  V 

i 

THE   FIGHT   AT   THE   VILLAGE 

THE  next  morning,  while  Thure  was  busy  with 
'his  camp  duties,  for  there  were  no  idlers  in 
Fremont's  company  and  each  had  his  appointed 
work  to  attend  to,  he  saw  Kit  Carson  quietly  pass 
around  among  the  men  and  speak  a  low  word  to 
each.  A  few  minutes  later,  ten  men,  with  Kit 
Carson  at  their  head,  mounted  their  horses  and 
rode  quietly  out  of  camp.  Thure  noticed,  with  a 
quickening  heart,  that  these  ten  men  were  the  pick 
of  the  command.  There  were  Dick  Owens,  Alexis 
Godey,  Maxwell,  Hammer  Jones,  Rex  Holt  and 
five  others,  the  most  experienced  Indian  fighters  in 
the  company. 

"Where  are  they  going?"  he  asked  anxiously  of 
Sam  Neal,  who  chanced  to  be  standing  near,  look- 
ing after  the  disappearing  men  with  longing  eyes. 
"Those  men  with  Kit  Carson." 

"After  the  Klamaths,"  Neal  answered.  "And 
I'd  be  with  them,  if  it  wa'n't  that  Fremont  wants 
me  to  act  as  guide  while  Kit's  away."  There  was 
a  note  of  pride  in  his  voice  as  he  spoke.  "They 
are  to  try  to  find  the  Klamath  village;  and,  if  they 
find  it  and  the  Indians  don't  act  as  if  they  had 
53 


54  Fighting  With  Fremont 

any  knowledge  of  our  coming,  they're  to  send  word 
back  to  us  and  wait  until  we  get  there  before  the 
attack  is  made.  But,  if  the  Indians  act  scared,  as 
if  they  knowed  we  were  coming  and  wanted  to  get 
away  before  we  could  get  there,  then  Kit  is  to  do 
as  he  thinks  best,  which  means  that  he'll  charge 
the  whole  village  with  his  ten  men,  for  I  never 
knowed  Kit  to  balk  at  numbers  when  he  had  ten 
good  men  back  of  him." 

"But  there  might  be  two  or  three  hundred 
Indians  in  the  village!"  Thure  exclaimed  appre- 
hensively. 

"Don't  care  if  there's  a  thousand,  Kit'll  attack 
them,  if  they  look  as  if  they  were  getting  ready  to 
vamose;  and  trust  to  us  to  get  there  in  time  to 
back  him  up.  He's  left  word  with  every  one  on 
us  to  keep  our  ears  strained  for  rifle  shots ;  and,  at 
the  first  sound  of  the  crack  of  a  rifle,  we're  to  get 
to  him  as  quick  as  the  Almighty'll  let  us.  Kit 
Carson  wouldn't  like  nothing  better  than  to  find 
two  or  three  hundred  Indian  braves  in  that  village, 
nor  would  we,"  and  Neal  smiled  grimly,  as  he  hur- 
ried away  to  where  Fremont  stood,  talking  with 
Lieutenant  Gillespie  and  a  couple  of  his  officers. 

This  information  greatly  excited  Thure.  It  cer- 
tainly did  begin  to  look  as  if  there  were  going  to 
be  an  Indian  fight  and  a  big  one,  as  if  he  were 
going  to  have  his  wish  granted  and  see  the  famous 
Kit  Carson  in  a  battle  with  the  Indians.  He  hoped 
that  the'  fight  would  not  be  all  over  before  they 


The  Fight  at  the  Village  55 

could  get  there.  He  would  like  to  do  some  Indian 
fighting  himself ;  and  his  blood  tingled  and  his  face 
flushed  and  his  eyes  glowed  and  he  gripped  his 
rifle  tightly  at  the  thought;  and  then,  suddenly,  his 
face  went  white  and  he  shuddered.  For  the  first 
time  he  realized  that  fighting  meant  killing  and 
wounding,  meant  the  horrors  of  death  and  the 
agonies  of  torn  flesh  and  broken  bones,  that  it  was 
not  all  bang  and  glory,  that  even  Rex  and  Ham 
and  Kit  Carson  himself  might  be  killed.  He  did 
not  think  of  himself.  His  was  not  that  kind  of 
courage.  Nor  did  he  for  an  instant  wish  the  less 
to  be  present,  if  it  came  to  fighting.  But,  somehow, 
for  the  first  time  he  had  come  to  realize  that  fight- 
ing with  guns  and  knives  meant  death  and  agoniz- 
ing hurts,  not  only  to  the  enemy,  but  also  to 
friends;  and  the  thought  had  chilled  his  blood  and 
whitened  his  face.  Nevertheless,  if  possible,  he 
was  even  more  anxious  than  before  to  see  the  fight ; 
for  now,  if  he  were  not  present,  the  suspense  of  not 
knowing  who  was  hurt  or  killed  would  be  terrible. 
Consequently,  when  Fremont  gave  the  order  to 
mount,  and  the  command  started  slowly  along  the 
trail  left  by  Kit  Carson  and  his  men,  there  was 
not  one  of  the  company  who  listened  more  anx- 
iously than  did  Thure  for  the  crack  of  the  rifle  that 
would  tell  the  battle  was  on. 

That  was  a  silent  march.  No  one  cared  to  talk. 
All  were  listening,  and  all  sat  their  horses  with 
muscles  tense,  like  hounds  held  in  leash. 


56  Fighting  With  Fremont 

Suddenly  Thure  straightened  up  with  a  jerk  in 
his  saddle,  and  then  bent  eagerly  forward,  listening. 
At  the  same  moment  every  horseman  stopped  and 
sat  his  saddle  like  a  marble  statue  for  a  moment; 
and  then — 

"Hurrah,  Kit  has  found  them !"  yelled  one. 

"Come  on,  or  we'll  miss  the  sport!"  shouted  an- 
other. 

A  moment  later  and  Fremont  had  detailed  a 
half-dozen  men  to  guard  the  baggage,  and,  at  the 
head  of  the  others,  was  hurrying  as  swiftly  as 
horse  legs  could  take  him  over  the  rough  country 
in  the  direction  whence  the  sound  of  distant  rifle 
firing  had  come  so  faintly  that,  for  an  instant,  even 
his  keen  ears  had  doubted  the  import  of  its  message. 

Thure,  his  heart  pounding  against  his  ribs,  rode 
a  few  paces  behind  Fremont.  Down  into  a  small 
valley  they  galloped,  pell-mell  they  splashed 
through  a  little  stream  of  water,  up  the  steep  side 
of  a  ridge  they  rushed,  through  thickets  and  groves 
of  close-growing  trees  they  plunged,  down  into  an- 
other valley  and  up  to  the  top  of  another  ridge  they 
dashed,  the  sounds  of  the  rifle  firing  ever  coming 
nearer  and  growing  louder ;  and  then — 

"Halt!"  commanded  Fremont,  suddenly  pulling 
up  his  horse,  his  eyes  intent  on  the  valley  below. 
"Look  there!"  and  he  pointed  to  where,  a  mile 
away,  black  columns  of  smoke  rose  above  the  tops 
of  the  trees  of  a  small  grove.  "We  are  too  late. 
Carson  has  set  fire  to  the  village." 


The  Fight  at  the  Village  57 

At  the  same  moment,  as  if  to  verify  his  words, 
the  rifle  firing  almost  ceased,  while  the  distant 
cheering  of  the  victorious  men  reached  their  ears. 

"Hurrah!"  yelled  every  man  in  the  company  in 
answer,  and  struck  spurs  into  his  horse's  flanks  and 
galloped  madly  toward  the  scene  of  the  battle. 

Thure  was  greatly  excited.  What  boy  would 
not  have  been  to  be  thus  rushing  down  upon  an 
Indian  fight,  with  the  war-whoops  of  the  savages 
and  the  shots  and  yells  of  the  mountaineers  beating 
into  his  ears !  His  hand  gripped  his  rifle  until  his 
finger  tips  showed  white,  and  his  eyes  searched  the 
woods  ahead,  whence  rose  the  smoke  and  the 
sounds  of  battle,  with  an  intense  unnatural  stare. 

There  might  be  an  Indian  behind  any  tree! 

In  among  the  trees  they  plunged,  careless  of 
overhanging  or  protruding  limbs;  and,  suddenly, 
yelling  like  madmen,  they  burst  out  of  the  woods 
and  into  a  natural  opening;  and  the  next  instant 
they  were  in  the  midst  of  the  smoking  lodges  of 
the  Indian  village.  Through  the  village  they 
dashed  and  on  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  opening, 
where  rifle  shots  and  an  occasional  war-whoop  told 
them  that  some  of  the  Indians  were  still  attempt- 
ing to  hold  back  the  victorious  white  men  from  fol- 
lowing too  closely  their  fleeing  families.  But,  the 
moment  Fremont  and  his  yelling  men  appeared, 
these  Indians  fled;  and  the  battle  was  over.  All 
now  rode  back  to  complete  the  destruction  of  the 
village. 


58  Fighting  With  Fremont 

Thure,  during  this  exciting  ride,  had  seen  little 
in  detail.  His  eyes  were  too  intent  on  seeing 
Indians  to  take  note  of  anything  else.  But  now 
that  the  climax  of  the  excitement  was  past,  his  eyes 
and  his  mind  could  grasp  his  surroundings  in  their 
details.  The  village  had  been  built  in  a  natural 
opening  in  the  woods.  Along  one  side  of  this 
opening  flowed  a  small  stream  of  water,  and  scat- 
tered along  the  bank  of  this  stream  were  the  lodges 
of  the  Indians,  some  fifty  in  number.  Everywhere 
were  evidences  of  the  hurry  and  the  confusion  with 
which  the  Indians  had  abandoned  their  homes, 
while  here  and  there  the  outstretched  body  of  a  red 
warrior,  victims  of  the  deadly  long-barreled  rifles 
of  the  white  men,  told  that  they  had  not  been  aban- 
doned without  having  been  bravely  defended. 

"By  the  eternal  Andrew  Jackson !"  and  Rex,  the 
light  of  battle  still  in  his  eyes,  a  blazing  torch  in  his 
hand,  paused  long  enough  to  allow  Thure,  as  he 
rode  back  into  the  village,  to  leap  off  his  horse  and 
join  him,  "We've  squared  accounts  with  them 
Klamaths  good  and  plenty.  We've  punished  them 
for  the  murder  of  Basil  Lajeunesse  and  the  two 
brave  Delawares  so  severely  that  I  reckon  'twill  be 
a  long  while  before  they  will  kill  another  white 
man  in  his  sleep.  Ay,  it  was  a  great  fight,  a  great 
fight!  One  hundred  and  fifty  bucks  against  a 
dozen  whites!  But  we  licked  them.  Drove  them 
before  us  like  a  herd  of  stampeding  buffalos,  the 
squaws  and  papooses  wailing  and  yelling  and  the 


The  Fight  at  the  Village  59 

warriors  bravely  keeping  between  them  and  us  and 
fighting  desperately  until  they  had  escaped  in  the 
woods.  Them  Klamaths  are  no  cowards.  But 
Kit  Carson,  with  a  yell,  charged  right  down  upon 
them,  as  if  he  had  a  whole  army  back  of  him ;  and 
we  followed,  yelling  until  I  reckon  the  Indians 
thought  Fremont  and  all  his  men  were  coming. 
The  bucks  waited  just  long  enough  for  the  squaws 
and  papooses  to  get  away,  and  then  they,  too, 
legged  it  for  the  woods,  but  not  until  we'd  sent  a  lot 
of  them  to  the  Happy  Hunting-grounds.  There's 
nobody  that  knows  just  how  to  tackle  Indians  like 
Kit  Carson  does.  He's  worth  a  regiment  of  sol- 
diers in  an  Indian  fight — Whoop!  Hurrah!  Get 
a  torch  and  we'll  help  to  burn  the  lesson  into  them 
Klamaths'  cunning  heads  that  hereafter  they  are 
to  leave  white  men  alone  when  journeying  peace- 
fully through  their  country,"  and  Rex,  blazing 
torch  in  hand,  rushed  toward  a  large  wigwam, 
made  by  weaving  the  broad  leaves  of  the  swamp 
flag  together  in  such  a  manner  as  to  form  a  rain 
and  wind  proof  wall  and  roof,  and,  thrusting  the 
flame  of  the  torch  into  its  side  in  different  places, 
soon  had  the  whole  hut  a  mass  of  leaping  flames. 

"But  was  no  one  hurt?  Where  is  Ham  and 
Kit?"  panted  Thure,  hurrying  after  Rex. 

"Just  a  few  arrow  scratches,  but  not  a  serious 
hurt  that  I  know  of,"  Rex  answered.  "We  came 
a  flying  too  fast  for  the  Indians  to  hit  us,  I  reckon. 
As  for  Kit,  there  he  is  a-talking  to  Fremont,"  and 


60  Fighting  With  Fremont 

Rex  pointed  with  the  barrel  of  his  rifle  to  where 
Fremont  and  Kit  Carson  sat  on  their  horses,  side 
by  side,  watching  the  burning  of  the  Indian  village ; 
"and,  as  for  Ham — I  reckon  he  can  speak  for  him- 
self," he  ended  abruptly,  as  the  big  fellow  suddenly 
appeared,  hurrying  from  around  the  other  side  of 
the  blazing  wigwam,  a  lighted  torch  in  one  hand, 
his  eyes  glittering  savagely  and  his  honest  face 
smeared  with  burnt  powder  and  blood. 

Thure,  at  first,  could  hardly  believe  that  this 
savage-looking  apparition  was  his  big  friend,  and 
shrank  back  from  him.  But. Ham,  at  sight  of  the 
boy,  swung  his  torch  wildly  around  his  head  and 
rushed  up  to  where  he  stood. 

"Hurra!"  he  yelled.  "We've  licked  'em!  Sent 
'em  all  runnin'  faster'n  a  scar't  steer  an'  a  yellin' 
worser'n  a  hurt  bobcat.  Sufferin'  snakes,  son, 
how  them  squaws  an'  papooses  did  screech  an'  leg 
it  for  th'  woods,  when  they  seed  us  a-comin',  an' 
we—" 

"But,"  interrupted  Thure  anxiously,  "you  are 
wounded!  Your  face  is  all  covered  with  blood." 

"Shucks !  'Tain't  nuthin'.  A  big  buck  thro  wed 
his  tomahawk  at  me;  an'  it  jest  glanced  off  my 
head,  same  as  if  it  had  hit  a  stone,"  and  Ham 
grinned.  "Reckon  he  didn't  know  my  head.  But 
I  got  him.  Jest  one  blow  from  Sally  Ann  did  for 
him,"  and  he  glanced  down  affectionately  toward 
the  butt  of  his  heavy  rifle :  "But  this  ain't  no  time 
for  spoutin'.  Hurra!  That's  my  conflagration," 


The  Fight  at  the  Village  61 

and  he  leaped  away  toward  a  large  wigwam  that 
still  remained  unfired,  his  torch  flaring  furiously, 
and  soon  his  "conflagration"  was  burning  glori- 
ously. 

Kit  Carson,  wishing  to  inflict  as  much  harm  as 
possible  on  these  savages,  in  order  to  impress  upon 
them  the  power  of  the  Whites  to  avenge  any  wrong 
done  to  a  white  man,  had  instructed  his  men  to  col- 
lect in  the  lodges  everything  in  the  village  of  any 
value  to  the  Indians;  and  then  to  set  them  on  fire; 
and  it  was  this  work  that  was  now  being  done,  with 
a  thoroughness  that  soon  left  nothing  but  smoking 
ash  heaps  of  what  a  few  short  hours  before  had 
been  a  populous  Indian  village. 

Thure  soon  had  a  lighted  torch  in  his  hand  and 
was  assisting  Rex  in  this  destruction  of  the  Indian 
village.  They  found  large  quantities  of  dried 
meats  and  other  foods,  skins,  clothing  and  the  vari- 
ous implements  used  by  the  Indians  in  their  daily 
life ;  for  so  precipitate  had  been  their  flight  that  the 
savages  had  taken  nothing  with  them  except  what 
they  had  on  their  backs  or  in  their  hands.  All  this 
the  men  collected  and  piled  up  in  the  wigwams  in 
such  a  manner  that  when  the  torch  was  applied  it 
would  be  completely  destroyed  or  damaged  beyond 
further  usefulness  by  the  fire.  Not  until  every 
wigwam  in  the  village  was  a  pyramid  of  leaping 
flames  and  rolling  smoke  did  the  work  of  destruc- 
tion cease. 

"Thar,"  and  Hammer  Jones  surveyed  the  scene 


62  Fighting  With  Fremont 

of  smoking  devastation  with  the  utmost  satisfac- 
tion, "I  reckon  that'll  do  them  Klamaths  more  good 
than  all  th'  palaver  in  the  world  would.  They'll 
know  exactly  what  that  means,  an'  be  mighty  keer- 
ful  not  tew  do  anything  tew  bring  th'  same  kind 
of  punishment  down  on  them  ag'in.  Ingines  know 
enough  not  to  stick  their  fingers  intew  th'  same 
kind  of  fire  twice.  An',  if  thar's  any  truth  in  In- 
gine  beliefs,  Basil  Lajeunesse  an'  th'  tew  Dela- 
wares  will  have  all  th'  servants  they'll  be  needin', 
when  they  go  intew  camp  on  the  Happy  Hunting- 
grounds,"  and  his  eyes  rested  on  the  bodies  of  the 
dead  warriors  that  had  been  thrown  together  in  a 
pile  out  of  reach  of  the  flames. 

These  harsh,  but  under  the  circumstances  neces- 
sary measures,  if  they  would  teach  the  red  men 
to  respect  the  lives  of  other  white  men  wandering 
through  their  country,  having  been  completed, 
Fremont  called  his  men  together ;  and,  after  having 
sat  for  a  few  minutes  on  the  backs  of  their  horses 
watching  the  flames  to  see  that  the  destruction 
would  be  complete,  they  rode  back  to  the  place 
where  they  had  left  their  pack-train  and  went  into 
camp  some  two  miles  from  the  burning  village. 

The  men,  as  soon  as  they  had  attended  to  their 
camp  duties,  gathered  in  groups  around  the  par- 
ticipators in  the  fight  with  the  Indians,  and  listened 
eagerly  to  their  vivid  accounts  of  the  battle. 

Thure's  good  fortune  joined  him  to  the  group 


The  Fight  at  the  Village  63 

that  had  surrounded  Kit  Carson,  Rex  Holt  and 
Hammer  Jones;  and  he  heard  Kit  Carson  himself 
tell  how  the  battle  had  been  fought  and  won. 

"You  see,"  began  this  hero  of  many  Indian 
fights,  "the  Captain  told  me  that,  when  I  found  the 
village,  if  the  Indians  appeared  quiet  and  peace- 
able like,  as  if  they  did  not  dream  of  any  threaten- 
ing danger,  then  I  was  to  conceal  my  men,  send 
word  back  to  him  and  wait  until  he  came  up;  but 
that  if  the  Indians  acted  as  if  the  alarm  had  been 
given  already  and  knew  that  we  were  coming,  then 
I  was  to  use  my  own  judgment  about  waiting  for 
him  before  attacking.  Well,  when  we  crept  up 
within  sight  of  the  village,  I  saw  at  once  by  the 
excitement  and  confusion — the  squaws  and  pap- 
ooses were  rushing  about  wildly,  gathering  to- 
gether food  and  clothing  for  flight,  while  the  bucks 
were  arming — that  they  knew  we  were  coming  and 
that  if  we  got  any  of  them  we  would  have  to  strike 
quick.  I  also  saw  that  they  had  no  idea  any  of 
us  were  so  close;  and  that,  if  we  charged  right 
down  upon  them  while  they  were  in  this  confusion 
and  alarm,  the  chances  were  they'd  think  Fremont 
and  all  his  men  were  down  upon  them  and  that 
we'd  have  them  licked  before  they  found  out  their 
mistake.  Besides  I  knew  the  kind  of  men  I  had 
with  me.  So  I  gave  the  word;  and,  when  we  got 
as  near  to  the  village  as  we  could  get  without  being 
seen,  we  suddenly  fired  and,  jumping  to  our  feet 


64  Fighting  With  Fremont 

and  yelling  as  if  each  man  had  a  dozen  tongues, 
charged  down  upon  them  Indians  as  if  the  whole 
creation  was  back  of  us. 

"Well,"  and  Kit  Carson  chuckled,  "the  bluff 
worked,  and,  before  they  awoke  to  the  fact  that 
there  were  only  eleven  white  men,  we  had  the 
squaws  and  the  papooses  running  like  mad  for  the 
woods  and  all  the  bucks,  except  a  few  of  the  bravest, 
who  fought  desperately  to  hold  us  back  long  enough 
for  the  women  and  children  to  escape,  trailing  after 
them.  But,  'twas  the  big  bluff  of  the  charge  that 
licked  them.  An  Indian  can't  understand  a 
charge,  unless  it  has  overwhelming  numbers  back 
of  it.  They  never  make  any  other  kind,  and  don't 
expect  their  enemies  to." 

"But,"  broke  in  Ham,  "same  as  with  cards, 
you've  got  tew  know  jest  how  an'  when  tew  work 
that  game  of  bluff  with  Ingines,  or  them  vermints'll 
call  your  bluff  an'  take  your  hair  with  it.  But, 
it  sart'in  worked  like  a  yoke  of  oxen  this  time. 
Now,  I  reckon,  we  must  have  killed  nigh  on  tew 
twenty  of  them  Klamaths;  an'  they'll  be  almost 
sart'in  tew  come  back  tew  get  their  dead." 

"Yes,"  and  Kit  Carson  jumped  suddenly  to  his 
feet,  "and,  if  we  have  a  lot  of  men  hidden  near, 
we  can  give  them  a  few  more  dead  to  care  for. 
'Twill  save  a  lot  of  killing  in  the  future,  if  we  make 
the  punishment  as  severe  as  possible  now.  Come 
on,  let's  have  a  war-talk  with  Fremont,"  and,  fol- 
lowed bv  Rex  and  Ham  and  Dick  Owens  and  a 


The  Fight  at  the  Village  65 

number  of  the  older  and  more  experienced  men, 
Kit  Carson  hurried  to  where  Fremont  sat  on  a  log 
before  his  camp-fire,  talking  with  Lieutenant 
Gillespie. 

"Good,"  was  Fremont's  comment,  when  he  had 
heard  the  plan  of  Kit  Carson.  "Another  page 
added  to  the  Klamaths'  lesson  will  do  them  no 
harm.  Take  twenty  men,  Dick,"  and  he  turned  to 
Dick  Owens,  "and  return  to  the  village  and  place 
them  in  ambush  where  they  can  watch  the  burn- 
ing wigwams.  If  the  Indians  come  back,  send 
word  at  once  to  me;  and  make  no  attack  until  I 
get  there.  Carson,  Lieutenant  Gillespie  and  I  wish, 
you  to  join  our  council  of  war,"  and,  with  a  smile, 
he  motioned  Kit  Carson  to  a  seat  on  the  log  by  his 
side  and  indicated  to  Dick  Owens  and  the  others 
that  they  should  go. 

Rex  and  Ham  were  both  left  behind  by  the 
ambuscading  party,  because  they  had  been  with 
Kit  Carson  in  the  Indian  fight  and  it  was  thought 
only  fair  to  give  others  of  the  men  this  chance  of 
adding  their  portion  to  the  punishment  of  the 
Klamaths.  Thure  begged  to  be  allowed  to  go  with 
them;  but  Rex  refused  to  permit  him  to  do  so,  and 
he  was  compelled  to  be  content  with  watching  Dick 
Owens  and  his  twenty  men  march  out  of  camp  and 
silently  vanish  in  the  wilderness. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THURE  MAKES  A  FAMOUS  SHOT 

THURE  CONROYAL  had  heard  Fremont  give 
his  orders  to  Dick  Owens,  to  send  him  word, 
should  the  Indians  appear,  and  not  to  attack  them 
until  he  got  there ;  and,  when  Rex  refused  to  allow 
him  to  go  with  the  ambuscading  twenty,  he  deter- 
mined to  manage  somehow  to  be  one  of  the  party 
to  go  with  Fremont,  if  the  message  from  Dick 
Owens  should  come. 

"I'll  be  all  ready,"  he  reasoned ;  "and,  when  I  see 
Fremont  start  for  his  horse,  I'll  get  on  the  back 
of  mine  as  quick  as  I  can;  and,  in  the  hurry  and 
confusion,  I  don't  believe  they'll  notice  me,  at  least 
not  until  we're  on  the  way,  and  then  I  don't  believe 
they'll  have  the  heart  to  send  me  back." 

Accordingly  he  kept  careful  watch  of  Fremont, 
in  order  that  he  might  see  the  messenger  the  mo- 
ment he  arrived;  and  he  picketed  his  horse  near 
and  had  his  saddle  and  bridle  ready,  so  that  he 
could  mount  in  a  hurry ;  for  he  knew  that  when  the 
time  came  Fremont  and  the  men  who  went  with 
him  would  be  off  with  a  rush,  and  that  if  he  went 
with  them  he  must  be  ready. 

For  a  long  time  Fremont  and  Lieutenant  Gilles- 
66 


Thure  Makes  a  Famous  Shot  67 

pie  and  Kit  Carson  sat  on  the  log  talking.  Thure 
was  not  near  enough  to  hear  what  they  were  say- 
ing ;  but  he  could  see  their  faces  and  knew  by  their 
expressions  that  the  talk  was  upon  some  subject  of 
the  deepest  interest.  Presently  he  saw  Fremont 
take  a  map  out  of  his  pocket;  and,  spreading  it  out 
on  the  ground,  the  three  men  got  down  on  their 
knees  and  bent  over  it,  while  the  finger  of  Kit  Car- 
son traced  a  route  over  its  surface. 

"They're  planning  what  to  do  when  we  get  back 
to  California,"  thought  Thure.  "How  I  wish  I 
knew  what  that  message  was  Lieutenant  Gillespie 
brought  to  Fremont!  War  with  Mexico  would 
mean  a  lot  to  dad  and  to  the  rest  of  the  Americans 
in  the  Sacramento  Valley;  and  they  ought  to  know 
about  it  just  as  soon  as  possible.  Well,  one  thing 
is  sure,  Fremont  is  not  hurrying  back  to  California 
just  for  the  fun  of  the  thing;  and  whatever  it  is 
that  is  bringing  him  back,  he — " 

His  conjecturings  stopped  abruptly;  for,  at  that 
moment,  into  the  light  of  the  camp-fire, — it  was 
now  long  after  sundown, — swiftly  glided  a  deerskin- 
dressed  figure  that  hurried  to  the  side  of  Fremont. 
Instantly  the  three  men  leaped  to  their  feet,  stood 
for  a  minute  listening  while  the  man  delivered  his 
message;  and  then  all  three  caught  up  their  rifles 
and  ran  toward  their  horses,  Fremont  calling  out 
his  orders  as  he  ran. 

Thure  waited  to  see  no  more;  but,  catching  up 
saddle  and  bridle  and  rifle,  he  sprang  to  where  his 


68  Fighting  With  Fremont 

horse  stood,  and,  with  hands  that  trembled  with 
excitement,  threw  the  saddle  on  his  back,  slipped 
the  bit  into  his  mouth,  buckled  straps  and  cinches 
tight,  leaped  on  his  back  and  looked  for  Fremont. 
He  was  already  mounted  and  in  the  act  of  dashing 
out  of  the  camp  at  the  head  of  half  a  dozen  men. 
Thure,  without  a  moment's  hesitation,  dug  the 
spurs  into  his  horse's  flanks  and  galloped  after 
them. 

"Hi,  thar,  boy,  whar  you  goin'?  Come  back," 
yelled  a  man,  as  his  horse  carried  him  by  one  of  the 
camp-fires. 

But  Thure  did  not  give  him  the  slightest  heed, 
did  not  even  turn  in  his  saddle,  and  kept  his  eyes 
steadily  on  the  men  galloping  off  ahead  of  him.  It 
would  not  do  to  lose  sight  of  them.  A  nearly  full 
moon  shone  in  a  clear  sky  and  he  had  no  difficulty 
in  keeping  them  in  sight.  This  was  all  that  he 
cared  to  do  at  first,  for  he  did  not  wish  them  to  know 
that  he  was  coming  until  it  would  be  too  late  to  send 
him  back.  Fortunately  the  men  did  not  glance  be- 
hind them,  or,  if  they  did,  they  did  not  notice  him, 
and  he  rode  on  unhindered. 

At  the  end  of  a  mile  Fremont  and  his  men  began 
to  slow  down  and  to  ride  more  cautiously,  and 
Thure  drew  nearer.  He  saw  that  the  hindmost 
man  was  Hammer  Jones  and  that  the  second  man 
ahead  of  him  was  Rex.  Kit  Carson  rode  at  the 
head  with  Fremont.  A  little  further  and  they  were 
walking  their  horses,  and  Thure  knew  that  they 


Thure  Makes  a  Famous  Shot  69 

were  getting  close  to  the  Indian  village.  Presently 
Fremont  and  Kit  Carson  stopped  and  consulted  to- 
gether for  a  minute  or  two  in  low  voices. 

"We  are  going  to  ride  round  to  the  other  side  of 
the  village,"  and  Kit  Carson  turned  to  the  men  back 
of  him  and  raised  his  voice  so  that  all  could  hear, 
"and  try  to  hit  the  village  about  opposite  from 
where  Owens  and  his  men  are  stationed.  Move  as 
quietly  as  possible  and  be  ready  to  charge  at  the 
word,"  and  again  they  rode  on. 

"Did  the — did  the  messenger  say  how  many  In- 
dians there  were?"  and  Thure  moved  up  close  by 
the  side  of  Ham,  his  voice  trembling  with  excite- 
ment as  he  spoke,  forgetting  for  the  moment  that  he 
was  not  known  to  be  there. 

"Wai,  I'll  be  durned !"  and  Ham  turned  a  pair  of 
startled  eyes  on  the  lad.  "Whar  did  you  drap 
from?  Who  told  you  tew  come?  This  ain't  no 
game  for  a  boy  tew  butt  in." 

"I— I,"  faltered  Thure.  "I  came  to  see  the  In- 
dian fight.  Please  don't  send  me  back,  Ham.  I'm 
'most  a  man.  I  can  shoot  straight;  and  I  do  want 
to  see  Kit  Carson  in  an  Indian  fight." 

"You  sar'tin  wouldn't  be  your  own  father's  son, 
if  you  didn't  want  tew  git  next  tew  any  scrimmage 
that's  a-goin',"  grinned  Ham  sympathetically. 
"Wai,  I  reckon,  seein'  you're  here,  you  can  stay. 
Leastwise  I  won't  send  you  back.  Dick  Owens 
sent  word  that  'bout  fifty  bucks  had  come  back  tew 
git  th'  dead,  so  it  'pears  like  thar  might  be  some 


70  Fighting  With  Fremont 

scrappin'.  Now,  jest  keep  right  close  tew  me, 
when  th'  fightin'  begins,  an'  I'll  see  that  no  Ingine 
gits  your  scalp.  An' — an',  I  reckon,  you'd  better 
keep  out  of  sight  of  Rex  for  a  spell.  You  see,  he 
might  take  you  for  a  leetle  boy  an'  send  you  back," 
and  Ham  chuckled  softly. 

While  thus  speaking,  Ham  and  Thure  had  ridden 
side  by  side,  with  heads  close  together,  and  had 
spoken  in  such  low  voices  that  their  words  had  not 
reached  the  ears  of  those  ahead,  who  still  had  no 
knowledge  of  the  addition  of  one  boy  to  their  party. 

Thure  was  about  to  reply  to  Ham,  when  again 
Fremont  and  Kit  Carson  halted.  They  were  now 
in  a  thick  growth  of  timber,  where  it  was  so  dark 
that  only  the  outlines  of  the  men  showed  dimly,  as 
they  sat  silent  and  watchful  on  their  horses. 

"I  reckon  we're  'bout  tew  make  th'  attack," 
whispered  Ham.  "Now,  be  sure  an'  keep  right 
'longside  of  me,"  and  there  was  a  note  of  anxiety 
in  his  voice. 

"Ye — es,"  answered  Thure.  "I  can  see  the  open- 
ing where  the  village  is  through  the  trees.  The 
fires  are  still  burning." 

"Careful  men,"  cautioned  Fremont,  in  a  low 
voice.  "We  will  ride  slow  until  we  see  the  Indians, 
and  then  fire  and  charge.  That  will  tell  Owens  we 
are  here.  Forward!"  and  very  slowly  and 
cautiously  the  little  body  of  horsemen  moved 
through  the  fringe  of  trees  and  out  into  the  open- 
ing, where  the  still  smoldering  fires  of  the  wig- 


Thure  Makes  a  Famous  Shot  71 

warns  told  where  the  Indian  village  had  been,  every 
eye  straining  itself  to  catch  the  first  glimpse  of  the 
Klamaths. 

"There  goes  one!"  suddenly  yelled  Kit  Carson, 
at  the  same  moment  striking  his  spurs  into  his 
horse's  flanks  and  racing  away  toward  a  dusky 
figure  that  now  could  be  seen  gliding  about  among 
the  smoking  ruins. 

With  a  wild  yell,  the  men  followed. 

The  Indian  saw  his  enemies  too  late.  He  made  a 
desperate  effort  to  reach  the  woods;  but,  before  he 
could  do  so,  Kit  Carson,  who  was  considerably  in 
advance  of  all  the  others  except  Fremont,  was  upon 
him. 

During  this  exciting  chase  Thure  had  kept  his 
eyes  on  Kit  Carson ;  and  now,  when  he  was  within 
a  few  feet  of  the  Indian,  he  saw  him  suddenly  throw 
his  rifle  to  his  shoulder  and  attempt  to  fire.  At  the 
same  moment  he  saw  the  Indian  whirl  about,  his 
bended  bow  ready  to  shoot  the  arrow  drawn  to  its 
head. 

"My  God,  Kit's  gun  has  missed  fire!  Th'  In- 
gine  '11  git  him !"  yelled  Ham. 

For  an  instant  Thure  was  horror-stricken.  It 
did  not  seem  possible  that  Kit  Carson  could  escape 
that  deadly  arrow,  aimed  within  ten  feet  of  his 
breast.  If  he  could  only  do  something!  In  the  ex- 
citement of  the  moment  his  horse  had  outstripped 
all  the  others,  and  now  he  was  the  nearest  of  all,  ex- 
cept Fremont,  to  the  scene  of  the  impending  trag- 


72  Fighting  With  Fremont 

edy.  It  would  be  useless  for  him  to  attempt  to 
shoot  from  the  back  of  his  speeding  horse.  He 
could  not  hit  the  Indian.  He  might  even  kill  Car- 
son. But — 

At  the  thought  the  boy  suddenly  rose  in  his  stir- 
rups and  leaped  from  his  horse's  back,  his  rifle 
gripped  in  his  hand,  his  eyes  on  the  Indian.  He 
might  be  in  time  to  shoot  from  the  ground.  But, 
even  as  his  feet  struck  the  ground,  he  saw  that  he 
would  be  too  late  to  save  Carson.  The  arrow  was 
already  aimed,  the  bow-string  drawn  to  the  Indian's 
ear —  Then  he  saw  the  horse  of  Fremont  leap 
upon  the  Indian  and  hurl  him  to  the  ground.  But, 
in  another  moment,  the  Klamath  was  again  on  hisf 
feet  and  fitting  another  arrow  to  his  string;  and 
this  time  his  desperate  eyes  were  bent  on  Fremont. 

Thure  had  often  practiced  jumping  off  his  horse's 
back  while  going  at  full  speed;  and  now  the  skill 
thus  acquired  stood  him  in  good  stead.  He  landed 
safely  on  his  feet,  ran  a  few  quick  steps,  and  stopped, 
his  rifle  to  his  shoulder,  just  as  the  Indian  turned 
his  bow  toward  Fremont,  who,  for  the  moment,  was 
at  his  mercy.  The  distance  was  not  great,  not  more 
than  fifty  yards,  and  in  the  clear  moonlight  Thure 
could  see  quite  distinctly.  For  an  instant  his  keen 
young  eyes  glanced  along  the  barrel  of  his  rifle, 
and  then  he  pulled  the  trigger. 

The  bended  bow  dropped  from  the  Indian's  hand ; 
and,  with  a  wild  death-whoop,  he  leaped  straight  up 
into  the  air  and  fell  to  the  ground  and  lay  still.  In 


Thure  Makes  a  Famous  Shot  73 

another  moment  Fremont  and  Kit  Carson  and  the 
dead  Indian  were  surrounded  by  the  excited  men, 
while  Dick  Owens  and  his  twenty  men  were  run- 
ning from  their  place  of  concealment  toward  the 
spot. 

Thure,  his  blood  thumping  violently  through  his 
veins,  stood,  for  a  moment  after  he  had  fired,  stark 
still;  then,  his  face  going  white  and  his  limbs  feel- 
ing unaccountably  weak,  he  turned  to  look  for  his 
horse.  The  trained  animal  had  run  only  a  short 
distance ;  and  now  stood,  quietly  cropping  the  grass, 
his  eyes  on  the  form  of  his  young  master.  Thure 
whistled  and  the  horse  lifted  his  head  and  trotted 
swiftly  up  to  his  side;  and  the  boy  climbed  up  into 
the  saddle,  and  rode  slowly  toward  the  men  grouped 
around  the  dead  Indian. 

By  this  time  Dick  Owens  and  his  men  had 
reached  the  spot.  He  was  greeted  by  a  chorus  of 
inquiries  after  those  fifty  Indians  he  had  reported 
as  having  seen  in  the  ruined  village. 

"You  must  have  had  Ingine  fever,  Dick,"  Ham 
declared  in  great  disgust,  "an'  seen  Ingines  in  your 
brain ;  for  thar  sart'in  wa'n't  none  here,  except  that 
lone  buck,"  and  he  glanced  toward  the  dead  Indian. 
"Fifty  Ingines!  Hu!  You'd  better  wear  specs!" 

"Well,"  answered  Owens,  his  face  flushing,  "I 
had  no  rope  round  them  Indians  to  hold  them  with 
until  you  came;  and  I  did  have  orders  to  do  noth- 
ing, except  to  look  at  them,  until  you  got  here ;  and 
they  didn't  seem  to  care  to  wait  until  you  could 


74  Fighting  With  Fremont 

come  and  kill  them;  so,  just  before  you  got  here, 
they  all  hurried  off —  Fifty  of  them,  and  we 
couldn't  even  fire  a  shot  at  them !"  he  ended  in  dis- 
gust. 

"You  obeyed  your  orders,  like  good  soldiers," 
Fremont  interposed ;  "and  that  is  all  any  commander 
can  ask  of  his  men.  You — "  His  eyes  suddenly 
caught  sight  of  Thure,  who  had  pushed  his  way 
through  the  crowd  of  men  and  now  sat  on  his 
horse  almost  directly  behind  Dick  Owens,  and  a 
flash  of  anger  came  into  them. 

"How  comes  it,  young  sir,  that  you  are  here?" 
he  demanded  sternly.  "Who  gave  you  permission 
to  leave  camp?  Did  you  have  anything  to  do  with 
this  boy's  presence  here,  Holt?"  and  he  turned  a 
frowning  face  to  Rex  Holt,  who  was  staring  at 
Thure,  as  if  he  could  hardly  believe  that  he  was 
seeing  right. 

"No,"  answered  Rex.  "He  must  have  tagged 
along  behind  us.  I'd  have  sent  him  back  a-running, 
if  I  had  known  it." 

"You  knew  that  it  was  against  orders  for  any- 
one to  leave  camp  without  my  permission?"  and 
Fremont  again  turned  to  Thure. 

Yes — s,  sir,"  stammered  Thure,  whose  face  was 
now  very  red  and  who  felt  more  like  crawling  un- 
der his  horse's  belly  than  he  did  like  remaining  in 
the  saddle. 

"I  thought  every  man  and  boy  in  camp  knew  that 
I  made  no  rules,  except  those  that  I  expected  to  be 


Thure  Makes  a  Famous  Shot  75 

obeyed  by  every  man  and  boy  in  camp/'  continued 
Fremont.  His  voice  was  stern,  but  it  was  his  eyes 
that  Thure  dreaded  most.  They  seemed  to  look 
right  through  him  and  to  dominate  every  nerve  in 
his  body. 

"I— I—" 

"Silence!"  and  Fremont  lifted  his  hand  warn- 
ingly.  "In  a  camp  like  this  it  is  absolutely  neces- 
sary to  preserve  discipline,"  and  his  face  hardened. 
"Young  man,  hand  your  rifle  and  knife  and  pistol 
to  Hammer  Jones.  You  may  consider  yourself  un- 
der arrest  and  without  the  privilege  of  carrying  any 
weapon,  until  I  give  you  permission.  Hammer 
Jones,  take  his  weapons." 

Tears  of  shame  at  this  public  humiliation  came 

into  Thure's  eyes.     He  tried  to  speak,  but  his  voice 

choked  in  his  throat ;  and,  turning  to  Ham,  who  sat 

on  his  horse  the  nearest  to  him,  he  silently  extended 

his  rifle. 

"Jest  keep  th'  gun  a  spell,  son,  I  reckon  th'  Cap- 
tain don't  know  yit  what  it  done  for  him.  I'll  give 
him  a  leetle  loomination,"  and,  waving  the  rifle 
back,  Ham  spurred  his  horse  up  close  to  Fremont's 
side. 

"Beggin'  pardon,  Captain,"  he  began ;  "but  afore 
I  take  that  boy's  gun,  I  want  you  tew  know  what  it 
did  for  you.  See  that  Ingine?"  and  Ham  pointed 
to  the  dead  warrior.  "Wai,  'twas  that  gun  that 
fired  th'  ball  that  killed  that  vermint." 

"What's  that?"  and  Fremont  turned  a  pair  of 


76  Fighting  With  Fremont 

surprised  eyes  on  Ham's  face.  "The  boy  shot 
that  Indian!" 

"Sart'in,  he  was  ahind  that  gun ;  an'  'twas  'bout 
th'  purtiest  bit  of  Indian  killin'  I've  ever  seed,"  and 
Ham,  in  his  own  peculiar  style,  went  on  to  relate 
how  Thure  had  leaped  from  his  horse  while  the 
animal  was  going  at  full  speed,  landed  on  his  feet 
and  shot  the  Indian.  "An',  I  reckon,  he  didn't  git 
him  none  tew  sudden,"  he  ended;  "for  th'  Ingine's 
bow  was  bent,  an'  you  know,  Captain,  whar  that 
arrer  was  bound  for." 

"I  do,"  and  Captain  Fremont's  face  was  very 
sober  now.  "In  another  second  it  would  have  been 
in  my  body." 

For  a  minute  or  two  he  sat  silent  on  his  horse, 
his  eyes  bent  steadily  on  the  flushed  face  of  the  boy. 

"You  may  keep  your  gun  and  other  weapons, 
Thure,"  he  said  at  length;  "and  this  time,  for  the 
sake  of  the  quick  wit  and  courage  you  have  shown, 
I  will  pardon  your  serious  breach  of  discipline. 
But,  in  the  future,  remember  that  every  order  I 
make  I  make  for  the  good  of  all,  and  that  all  must 
obey  it  implicitly.  My  boy,"  and  Fremont  sud- 
denly urged  his  horse  up  close  to  the  lad's  side  and 
gripped  him  by  the  hand,  "it  looks  as  if  that  shot 
saved  my  life ;  and  I  want  to  thank  you  as  I  would 
thank  a  man;  for  no  man  could  have  acted  with 
better  judgment  and  greater  courage  than  you  did. 
It  is  the  man  that  sees  clearly  what  to  do  and  does 
it  promptly,  at  the  moment  of  need,  that  wins  in  this 


Thure  Makes  a  Famous  Shot  77 

life.  I  shall  let  your  father  know  of  this  deed, 
Thure." 

Thure  stammered  some  reply.  No  one  who 
heard  him  could  tell  what  he  said.  He  found  this 
public  thanking  almost  worse  to  endure  than  the 
public  rebuking  had  been;  and  when  Kit  Carson 
suddenly  rode  up  to  the  side  of  Fremont,  he  was 
deeply  thankful  for  the  diversion  the  act  brought 
about. 

"Captain  Fremont,"  Carson  said,  his  eyes  on  his 
commander's  face,  "I  am  not  good  at  putting  my 
feelings  into  words ;  but,  I  reckon,  if  it  had  not  been 
for  you  and  Sacramento,  that  Indian's  arrow  would 
have  got  me  sure.  I  just  want  you  to  know  that  I 
know,  and  that  I  won't  forget,"  and,  abruptly 
whirling  his  horse  about,  he  rode  away  before  Fre- 
mont had  a  chance  to  reply. 

A  couple  of  minutes  later  Carson  hurried  back 
to  the  side  of  Fremont  and  suggested  that  it  would 
be  wise  to  hasten  back  to  the  camp,  because  of  the 
possibility  that  the  Klamaths  might  attempt  to  get 
revenge  by  attacking  the  camp,  while  so  many  of 
the  men  were  absent. 

Accordingly  Fremont  at  once  gave  the  order  for 
all  to  return  to  the  camp;  and,  with  a  final  glance 
around  the  still  smoking  Klamath  village  to  see  that 
the  ruin  was  complete,  the  march  back  to  camp  was 
begun. 

Thure,  now  that  he  had  been  made  to  real- 
ize how  wrong  he  had  been  in  leaving  camp 


78  Fighting  With  Fremont 

without  its  commander's  permission,  was  very 
grateful  to  the  kind  fates  for  giving  his  adventure 
such  a  propitious  ending;  and  vowed  that  never 
again  would  he  give  Fremont  cause  to  look  at  him 
with  those  dreadful  eyes  of  condemnation.  Only 
the  thought  that,  possibly,  he  had  saved  the  life  of 
Fremont  and  had  won  his  commendation  as  well  as 
his  condemnation,  recompensed  him  for  those  few 
moments  of  humiliation,  when  he  had  sat  on  his 
horse  and  faced  his  angry  commander  and  had  been 
condemned  to  the  bitter  degradation  of  surrender- 
ing his  weapons.  He  felt  very  grateful  to  Ham  for 
taking  his  part,  and  took  the  first  opportunity  on 
their  way  back  to  camp  to  thank  him. 

"Shucks,"  declared  that  worthy,  "don't  take  th' 
trouble  tew  thank  a  feller  for  a  thing  like  that.  I 
knowed,  if  the  Captain  knowed  what  you'd  done, 
he'd  pardon  your  breach  of  discipline ;  an'  I  knowed 
that  he  otter  know,  so  I  told  him.  Say,  that  was  a 
powerful  cute  trick  of  yourn,  jumpin'  off  your  hoss 
an'  gettin'  that  Ingine.  Cute  enough  for  Kit  Car- 
son ;  an'  I'm  proud  of  you." 

"So  am  I,"  and  Rex  rode  up  to  the  side  of  Thure 
and  gripped  his  hand  and  shook  it  warmly.  "And 
your  dad  will  be  proud  of  you  when  he  hears  about 
it.  But  don't  go  against  the  Captain's  discipline 
again.  That  is  one  thing  he  won't  stand  for ;  and 
every  man  in  camp  knows  it ;  and  that  is  why  he  has 
so  little  trouble  with  his  men." 

Thure  had  flushed  with  pleasure  at  these  words 


Thure  Makes  a  Famous  Shot  79 

of  Ham  and  Rex.  To  be  told  that  he  had  done 
something  worthy  of  the  doing  of  Kit  Carson  was, 
indeed,  high  praise,  the  highest  in  his  estimation; 
but  he  really  did  not  believe  he  deserved  all  this 
commending. 

"I  really  did  not  do  very  much,"  he  said.  "You 
see,  ever  since  coming  to  California,  I  have  lived 
on  horseback;  and  at  home  we  boys  practice  jump- 
ing on  and  off  our  horses  when  going  at  full  speed 
almost  every  day;  and  there  is  hardly  a  boy  of  my 
age  in  California  who  could  not  have  done  what  I 
did.  I  just  happened  to  think  of  it  and  did  it  at 
the  right  time.  That  is  all." 

"Reckon  that  was  all,"  Ham  grinned.  "Jest  th' 
think  an'  th'  do;  an'  that's  'bout  all  thar  is  tew  any 
brave  deed.  Wai,  here  we  be  at  camp  an'  no  In- 
gines.  I  calculate  we  won't  have  any  more  trouble 
with  them  Klamaths.  They'll  know  enough  tew 
let  peaceable  white  men  alone  after  this.  They 
sure  did  git  punished  good  and  plenty.  Wai,  that's 
what  them  that  needs  it  usually  gits  in  this  life," 
he  added  philosophically. 

When  Thure  threw  himself  down  on  his  blanket 
that  night  he  was  very  tired ;  but  it  was  long  before 
sleep  could  drive  the  exciting  happenings  of  the  day 
out  of  his  mind.  He  had  seen  an  Indian  fight,  that 
is,  he  had  almost  seen  it;  and  he,  Thure  Conroyal, 
had  actually  killed  an  Indian !  But  the  killing  had 
been  done  to  save  life,  the  life  of  his  commander; 
and,  while  he  shuddered  at  the  thought  of  the  dead 


8o  Fighting  With  Fremont 

Indian,  he  felt  that  the  necessity  of  the  moment 
justified  the  shot.  Again  and  again  he  lived  over 
the  exciting  scenes  of  the  day,  until,  at  last,  they 
began  to  grow  less  and  less  real,  and,  finally,  his 
eyes  closed  and  he  was  sound  asleep. 


CHAPTER  VII 

LASSOING   A   GRIZZLY 

EARLY  the  next  morning  the  march  back  to  the 
Sacramento  Valley  was  resumed.  All  were 
anxious  to  reach  California  as  speedily  as  possible. 
The  men,  now  that  they  had  punished  the 
Klamaths,  in  accordance  to  their  rough  but  effec- 
tive ideas  of  justice,  were  in  splendid  spirits.  The 
souls  of  the  dead  had  been  appeased,  and  they  could 
now  go  about  their  regular  work,  content,  since  they 
had  done  their  duty  by  their  fallen  comrades. 
There  was  something  of  the  superstition  of  the  In- 
dians, among  whom  they  had  spent  so  much  of  their 
lives,  in  the  religion  of  these  rough  men  of  the  rifle. 
They  could  not  rest  easy  until  a  comrade's  death 
had  been  avenged;  but,  when  once  that  vengeance 
had  been  exacted,  the  shadows  cast  by  the  dead 
vanished.  Consequently,  the  fight  with  the 
Klamaths  and  the  destruction  of  their  village  had 
swept  the  gloom  from  the  hearts  of  Fremont's  men ; 
and,  as  they  rode  through  the  virgin  forests  on  this 
morning,  boisterous  jokes  and  loud  laughter  fell 
from  their  lips. 

Scouts  were  thrown  out  ahead.     They  had  no  in- 
tention of  being  caught  in  an  Indian  ambush  and 
81 


82  Fighting  With  Fremont 

they  feared  no  open  attack;  so  that  the  main  body 
were  required  to  observe  few  precautions,  as  they 
journeyed  along,  and  could  make  about  as  much 
noise  as  they  cared  to.  They  saw  no  signs  of  In- 
dians until  the  fourth  day  out  from  the  camp  where 
the  Klamath  village  had  been  burned;  but,  on  that 
day,  when  Maxwell  and  Archambeau.,  the  two  hunt- 
ters  for  the  day's  meat,  came  in  at  night,  each  bear- 
ing on  his  back  an  elk,  they  told,  as  they  sat  and 
smoked  in  the  peace  and  warmth  of  the  brightly- 
glowing  camp-fire,  of  a  strange  adventure  they  had 
had  with  a  lone  Indian. 

They  were  looking  for  deer  in  a  small  valley  some 
three  miles  from  the  line  of  march,  when  they  were 
surprised  to  see  a  single  Indian  walking  slowly  to- 
ward them.  The  two  hunters,  not  caring  to  harm 
the  warrior  and  wishing  to  get  a  little  information 
from  him  about  the  country  where  they  were, 
promptly  halted  and  laid  down  their  arms,  to  sig- 
nify their  peaceable  intentions.  The  Indian  ap- 
peared to  understand  their  actions;  for  he  showed 
no  signs  of  fear  and  continued  walking  boldly  to- 
ward them.  When  a  little  beyond  bowshot  he 
stopped,  and,  to  the  surprise  of  the  two  hunters, 
took  from  his  quiver  two  or  three  young  crows,  and, 
after  untying  the  string  that  held  them,  carefully 
concealed  the  young  birds  in  the  grass.  He  then 
again  started  toward  the  hunters,  who  were  watch- 
ing his  actions  with  great  curiosity  and  who  were 
now  a  little  startled  to  see  that,  while  he  advanced, 


Lassoing  a  Grizzly  83 

he  was  getting  his  weapons  ready  for  instant  use. 

"Wai,"  and  Maxwell,  who  was  telling  the  story, 
stopped  to  take  a  puff  at  his  pipe,  "his  gettin'  his 
bow  an'  arrers  whar  he  could  use  'em  mighty  sud- 
den, kinder  s'prised  us,  seein'  that  we'd  a-put  our 
guns  down  an'  were  a-standin'  empty-handed;  but 
we  calculated  that  he  was  jest  a-takin'  extra  pre- 
cautions 'g'inst  our  playin'  him  false,  an'  so  didn't 
think  none  much  of  it,  till,  all  of  a  sudden,  when 
he'd  got  within  easy  bowshot,  th'  skunk  ups  an'  lets 
fly  an  arrer  that  quick  that  I  nearly  jumps  out  of 
my  britches  gettin'  out  of  th'  way  of  it." 

"  'Hi,  thar !'  I  yells.  'Keep  them  arrers  tew 
home,  unless  you're  wantin'  bullets  in  exchange.' 
At  the  same  time  both  on  us  began  makin'  some 
more  peace  signs,  for  it  looked  tew  much  like  mur- 
der tew  shoot  that  lone  Injun.  But  that  darned 
vermint  kept  on  comin'  closer  an'  a-shootin'  jest 
as  fast  as  he  could  slip  th'  arrers  from  his  bow ;  an' 
we  keeps  a-dodgin'  an'  a-yellin'  for  him  tew  quit, 
till  one  of  th'  arrers  rips  through  my  huntin'  shirt 
not  more'n  six  inches  from  my  heart  an'  a  nuther 
clips  th'  top  off  Archambeau's  ear,  an'  more  still 
a-comin' ;  an'  I  seed  we'd  have  tew  git  th'  Injun  or 
he'd  git  us,  so  I  grabs  up  my  gun  an'  shot  th'  loon- 
atik.  Now,  what  fool  notion  do  you  reckon  had  got 
intew  that  buck's  head?  I  never  seed  one  act  like 
that  afore,"  and  Maxwell  turned  his  eyes  inquir- 
ingly to  the  face  of  Kit  Carson. 

"Can't  tell,"  Carson  answered,  "unless  he  was 


84  Fighting  With  Fremont 

wanting  to  commit  suicide.  It  would  take  a  bet- 
ter head  than  mine  to  figure  out  the  reasons  for  all 
the  queer  notions  that  get  into  the  heads  of  In- 
dians. Now,  you  fellows  had  better  get  back  out 
of  the  bright  light  of  the  fire,"  and  Carson  turned 
to  the  men  who  had  crowded  close  around  Maxwell 
while  he  was  narrating  the  adventure  with  the  In- 
dian, many  of  them  being  where  the  light  of  the 
camp-fire  shone  brightly  upon  them,  "or  some  In- 
dian may  creep  up  in  the  darkness  and  slip  an  arrow 
into  one  of  you."  Carson  himself  sat  in  the  shad- 
ows, where  almost  none  of  the  light  from  the  fire 
reached  him. 

"The  guard  '11  get  any  Indian  before  he  could  get 
us.  We  ain't  scared,"  vaunted  one  of  the  men. 

"All  right,  boys.  You  can  hang  round  the  fire, 
if  you  want  to;  but  I  don't  care  to  give  an  Indian 
the  chance  to  slip  an  arrow  into  me  when  I  can't 
see  him.  I've  seen  them  get  eight  good  men  that 
way,  and  I  don't  want  to  be  the  ninth,"  Carson  re- 
turned quietly,  resuming  his  smoking. 

Thure  smiled,  as  he  noticed  how  one  man  after 
another,  following  these  words  of  Carson,  quickly 
moved  out  of  the  fire  light,  the  scoffer  himself  be- 
ing the  last  to  move.  As  he  rose  to  his  feet — 
"chuck" — and  an  arrow  three  feet  long  struck  the 
trunk  of  the  tree  against  which  he  had  been  resting 
his  back,  and  stuck  there,  quivering  with  the  force 
of  the  impact. 

The  man  jumped  about  three  feet  up  into  the  air; 


Lassoing  a  Grizzly  85 

but,  when  he  came  down,  he  had  his  rifle  to  his 
shoulder  and  was  glaring  savagely  off  into  the 
silence  of  the  surrounding  darkness. 

At  the  sound  of  the  thud  of  that  arrow  Kit  Car- 
son and  every  man  in  the  camp  leaped  to  their  feet, 
rifles  in  their  hands;  but  not  another  sign  nor  a 
sound  of  an  Indian  was  to  be  seen  or  heard.  Kit 
Carson  and  Godey  and  Rex  Holt  vanished  swiftly 
into  the  darkness  in  the  direction  whence  the  arrow 
had  come;  but  they  found  nothing,  and  the  guards 
had  neither  seen  a  suspicious  movement  nor  heard  a 
suspicious  sound. 

There  was  no  more  hanging  round  in  the  bright 
light  of  the  camp-fires  that  night. 

Game,  through  the  greater  part  of  the  region 
through  which  our  friends  had  been  passing,  was 
abundant,  and  the  hunters  had  had  little  difficulty 
in  securing  sufficient  meat  to  satisfy  the  hunger  of 
all;  but  now  they  were  entering  a  more  barren 
region,  where  the  deer  and  the  other  food  animals 
were  exceedingly  scarce  and  difficult  to  kill  and  the 
hunters  frequently  came  into  camp  empty-handed. 

One  afternoon,  when  they  had  had  no  fresh  meat 
in  camp  for  two  days,  as  they  were  slowly  winding 
their  way  along  the  side  of  a  narrow  twisting  val- 
ley, suddenly,  from  behind  a  rock,  where  he  had 
been  lying  in  the  sun,  a  huge  grizzly  bear  jumped 
to  his  feet  and  turned  a  pair  of  astounded  eyes  in 
their  direction.  The  bear  did  not  run,  did  not  ap- 
pear to  be  in  the  least  afraid ;  but  settled  back  on  his 


86  Fighting  With  Fremont 

haunches  and  watched  them  with  the  greatest  curi- 
osity and  wonderment,  as  if  he  were  trying  to  figure 
out  in  his  mind  what  manner  of  animals  these 
strange  beings  might  be  and  whether  or  not  they 
would  be  good  to  eat.  However,  whatever  the 
cogitations  of  Bruin  might  have  been,  there  was  no 
doubt  in  the  minds  of  these  hungry  men  as  to  his 
fitness  for  eating;  and,  with  a  glad  shout,  a  dozen 
rifles  were  thrown  to  as  many  shoulders. 

"Don't  shoot!  Don't  shoot!"  yelled  Thure  ex- 
citedly. "Let's  rope  him!  I  have  often  seen  the 
Californians  rope  grizzlies  and  it  is  great  fun,"  and, 
with  swift  fingers,  he  began  unloosing  the  long 
lasso  that  hung  to  the  pommel  of  his  saddle. 

"All  right,"  agreed  the  men,  lowering  their  rifles. 
"'Twill  save  powder  and  ball." 

"An'  liven  us  all  up  a  bit,  I  reckon,"  amended 
Hammer  Jones,  already  grinning  in  anticipation  of 
the  "fun"  he  felt  sure  the  grizzly  would  give  the 
ropers. 

Fremont,  always  willing  to  give  his  men  every 
possible  relaxation  from  the  hard  labors  and  the 
strict  discipline  of  the  march  and  the  camp,  when 
the  proper  opportunity  offered,  promptly  called  a 
halt;  and,  sitting  on  his  horse  by  the  sides  of  Kit 
Carson  and  Lieutenant  Gillespie,  was  one  of  the 
most  interested  and  amused  watchers  of  the  exciting 
scene  that  followed. 

In  those  days  nearly  every  western  man  had 
more  or  less  skill  with  the  lasso,  and  every  horse- 


Lassoing  a  Grizzly  87 

man  had  a  reata  or  rope  fastened  to  the  high  pom- 
mel of  his  deep  saddle.  This  was  almost  as  neces- 
sary a  part  of  his  equipment  as  was  his  rifle;  for, 
without  it,  in  that  stableless  and  fenceless  land,  he 
would  have  been  at  a  loss  how  to  recapture  his 
horses,  once  they  were  free,  as  they  must  often  be 
in  order  to  forage  for  their  food. 

The  moment  Thure  had  yelled,  "Let's  lasso  him !" 
a  half-dozen  of  the  most  skilful  of  the  lasso  throw- 
ers had  handed  their  rifles  to  their  companions  and 
had  begun  untying  their  reatas.  These  now,  ac- 
companied by  Thure,  whose  life  in  the  Sacramento 
Valley  had  made  him  almost  as  skilful  as  a  native 
Californian  with  the  lasso,  began  riding  slowly  to- 
ward the  grizzly,  in  such  a  manner  as  to  form  a 
circle  around  him. 

The  bear,  during  these  maneuvers,  which  had 
taken  much  less  time  to  accomplish  than  it  has  to 
describe  them,  had  sat  on  his  haunches  watching 
them,  swinging  his  head  from  side  to  side  and  oc- 
casionally sniffing  the  air  and  uttering  a  loud,  ques- 
tioning "huff-huff,"  but  showing  little  evidence  of 
fear  or  rage.  Now,  however,  when  the  horsemen 
began  to  draw  near  and  to  act  as  if  they  were  really 
after  him,  the  monarch  of  those  mountains,  he  be- 
gan to  show  his  indignation  and  combativeness  by 
deep,  angry  growls  and  the  bristling  up  of  his  hair 
along  the  back  of  his  neck  and  shoulders  and  a 
furious  glare  in  his  little  wicked  looking  eyes. 

"Hurra!     He's  goin'   tew  give  'em  a  tussel," 


88  Fighting  With  Fremont 

commented  Ham  rejoicingly.  "Now  we  will  see 
some  fun,  and,  I  reckon,  th'  fun  won't  all  be  on  th' 
side  of  th'  rope  throwers  neither." 

"Golly !"  and  Fremont's  negro,  Beaut,  as  the  men 
called  him,  who  stood  near  Ham,  stared  open- 
mouthed  and  wide-eyed  at  the  circling  horsemen 
and  the  big  bear,  "dey  ain't  spec'latin'  on  cotchin' 
dat  monster  wid  dem  HI'  skin  ropes,  am  dey  Massah 
Ham?  'Cause,  if  dat  am  de  object  ob  der  circum- 
ulatin'  round  dat  b'ar,  den  dis  nigger  am  done 
gwine  to  climb  a  tree.  I  don't  like  de  looks  ob  dat 
b'ar's  mouff.  De  tongue  am  too  red  an'  de  teeth 
am  too  long  an'  sharp." 

"Sart'in,  they  are  a-goin'  tew  cotch  that  b'ar," 
and  Ham  grinned  down  into  the  negro's  face. 
"An*,  I  reckon,  they  are  a-goin'  tew  bring  him  right 
tew  you,  red  tongue  an'  long  teeth  an'  all,  so  that 
you  can  butcher  him  alive  for  your  master.  That's 
why  they're  so  powerful  anxious  tew  cotch  th'  crit- 
ter alive,  ain't  it  Bob?"  and  Ham,  with  a  sly  wink 
of  the  eye  out  of  sight  of  the  negro,  turned  to  the 
man  nearest  to  him  for  confirmation. 

"Shore,"  the  man  replied  solemnly.  "Th'  Cap- 
tain wants  that  b'ar  killed  by  Beaut.  'Pears  tew 
think  no  one  else  knows  jest  how  tew  kill  a  grizzly, 
so  that  th'  meat  '11  taste  jest  right,  like  Beaut  here 
does,  an*  he's  'spressly  ordered  th'  cotchin'  of  that 
b'ar  alive,  so  that  Beaut  can  kill  him  with  his 
butcher —  Hi,  thar,  nigger  whar  you  goin'  ?" 

Beaut,  during  these  few  moments,  had  kept  one 


Lassoing  a  Grizzly  89 

eye  on  the  bear  and  the  other  on  the  face  of  the 
speaker  and  his  body  bent  ready  for  an  instant 
spring  toward  a  ragged  oak  tree  that  grew  a  couple 
of  rods  away.  Now,  while  Bob  had  been  speaking, 
the  horsemen  had  been  circling  closer  and  closer 
around  the  grizzly,  and  the  growls  of  the  bear  had 
been  growing  louder  and  louder,  until,  suddenly, 
one  of  the  horsemen,  had  thrown  his  reata,  and  the 
loop,  darting  swiftly  through  the  air,  had  tight- 
ened with  a  jerk  around  the  grizzly's  neck.  This 
had  been  too  much  for  bruin's  already  ruffled 
temper,  and,  with  a  roar  of  rage,  he  had  hurled  his 
nine  hundred  or  more  pounds  of  solid  bone  and 
muscle  and  shaggy  hair  straight  toward  the  dar- 
ing horseman,  who  chanced  to  flee  directly  toward 
the  spot  where  Beaut  was  standing;  and  it  was  the 
negro's  sudden  leap  for  the  oak  tree  at  this  horrible 
sight,  that  had  caused  the  startled  query  of  Bob. 
The  negro  did  not  stop  to  answer  him,  nor  did  Bob 
or  Ham  or  any  of  the  others  in  that  immediate 
vicinity  wait  for  an  answer. 

"Rope  him,  quick!"  "Catch  him  by  the  hind 
legs!"  "Throw  him!"  yelled  the  men,  as  they 
scattered  in  every  direction  out  of  the  way  of  the 
racing  man  and  bear,  while  the  horses  and  mules 
snorted  with  terror  and  nearly  stampeded. 

Thure  and  the  other  lasso-throwers  chased  madly 
after  the  bear,  and  whirled  and  threw  their  ropes 
in  efforts  to  catch  him  by  one  of  his  legs  and  throw 
him;  but,  owing  either  to  their  lack  of  skill  or  to 


90  Fighting  With  Fremont 

the  difficulties  of  the  catch,  Thure's  rope  was  the 
only  one  to  grip  and  to  hold  to  a  leg.  His  reata 
caught  the  bear  by  one  of  his  hind  legs,  and  the  feat 
was  welcomed  with  a  great  shout  from  the  men. 
But,  so  tremendous  was  the  strength  of  the  bear 
and  so  great  the  momentum  of  his  huge  body,  that, 
when  Thure  whirled  his  horse  and  attempted  to 
check  bruin's  speed,  his  horse  was  jerked  violently 
forward  and  the  boy  sent  flying  over  his  head,  while 
the  bear  continued  the  chase,  dragging  the  horse 
along  after  him  for  half  a  dozen  rods,  when  the 
weight  and  the  strength  of  the  horse  became  too 
great  for  even  his  might  to  overcome,  and,  with  a 
roar  that  made  the  surrounding  mountains  echo,  he 
whirled  furiously  about,  just  as  Thure,  who  had 
been  partially  stunned,  struggled  to  get  on  his  feet. 
The  wicked  eyes,  now  red  with  fury,  caught  sight 
of  the  lad  only  a  few  yards  from  them ;  and,  with  a 
snarling  growl,  the  bear  rushed  for  the  half-dazed 
boy;  and,  before  the  horse  and  the  man  that  held 
the  other  end  of  the  rope  which  had  caught  around 
the  bear's  neck,  could  check  him,  he  was  within  ten 
feet  of  Thure,  growling  furiously  and  straining  his 
great  muscles  to  reach  the  lad,  who  had  not  yet  re- 
covered sufficiently  from  his  fall  to  realize  his  peril. 

At  this  critical  moment  the  reata  broke,  and  the 
grizzly  plunged  forward  almost  on  top  of  Thure, 
and  a  cry  of  horror  went  up  from  the  men. 

Ham  and  Rex  sprang  forward,  their  knives  in 
their  hands,  and  rifles  were  thrown  swiftly  to  a 


THE    GRIZZLY    PLUNGED    FORWARD    ALMOST    ON    TOP    OF   THURE 


Lassoing  a  Grizzly  91 

dozen  shoulders ;  but,  before  a  blow  could  be  struck 
or  a  rifle  fired,  an  unearthly  yell  made  every  man 
jump,  and  a  great  black  something,  with  whirling 
arms  and  legs,  tumbled  apparently  out  of  the  skies, 
and,  with  another  ear-splitting  yell,  landed  plump 
on  top  of  the  grizzly's  back. 

At  this  utterly  unexpected  onset  by  that  terrible 
black  thing  and  with  the  sounds  of  those  terrifying 
yells  piercing  into  his  ears,  the  grizzly,  with  a  start- 
led "whoof !"  jumped  clear  over  the  half-risen  form 
of  Thure  and  struck  out  madly  across  the  valley, 
leaving  the  black  thing  yelling  and  sprawling  wildly 
by  the  side  of  Thure.  In  an  instant  more  the  bear 
had  reached  the  end  of  Thure's  lasso,  which  still 
clung  to  his  hind  leg ;  but,  so  great  was  his  strength 
in  his  terror,  that  he  jerked  the  horse  off  his  feet, 
snapped  the  strong  rope,  as  if  it  had  been  a  pack 
thread  and  sped  on,  followed  by  bullets  from  nearly 
every  rifle  in  the  company ;  and  not  until  Kit  Carson 
and  Rex  fired  almost  simultaneously  did  he  drop,  his 
career  of  brutal  strength  and  ferocity  ended. 

"Wai,  I'll  be  durned,  if  'tain't  Beaut!"  and  Ham- 
mer Jones,  now  that  the  grizzly  was  accounted  for, 
stared  in  astonishment,  as  the  black  thing  that  had 
fallen  so  opportunely  on  top  of  the  grizzly's  back, 
leaped  to  his  feet  and  showed  the  terror-stricken 
face  of  the  negro;  and  then,  with  one  wild  glare 
around  and  a  yell  that  made  the  hair  stand  up 
straight  on  the  back  of  the  neck,  bounded  off,  his 
long  legs  jumping  up  and  down  like  the  pistons  of  a 


92  Fighting  With  Fremont 

steam  engine  gone  crazy  and  his  long  arms  whirl- 
ing about  his  shoulders  like  two  flails. 

"Stop  him!  He's  headed  for  the  Gulf  of  Mex- 
ico !"  yelled  one  of  the  men,  as  the  fleeing  negro,  in 
his  terror,  gave  no  evidence  of  slowing  up. 

Instantly  one  of  the  lasso-throwers,  with  a  shout, 
struck  his  spurs  into  his  horse  and  started  after  the 
frightened  negro.  A  few  bounds  and  his  horse  had 
brought  him  within  range.  The  reata  whirled 
around  his  head,  and  then  the  loop  darted  forward 
and  settled  swiftly  about  the  waist  of  the  running 
negro.  The  trained  horse  whirled  about  and  braced 
his  feet;  and  the  next  instant  Beaut  found  himself 
sprawling  on  his  back,  with  what  he  took  to  be  the 
grizzly's  arms  squeezing  the  breath  out  of  his  body. 

"Sabe  me !  Sabe  dis  niggah !"  he  shrieked,  strug- 
gling violently  and  kicking  and  pounding  madly 
with  his  feet  and  fists.  "O  Gawd,  I  done  knows  Ts 
been  a  wicked,  skinful  ob  obnikity,  but  sabe  mah  po' 
hide  from  de  tooths  ob  dis  monstah,  an'  I's  gwine 
to—" 

His  bulging  eyes  caught  sight  of  the  faces  of 
the  men  who  had  crowded  around  him  the  moment 
he  had  been  thrown  to  the  ground,  and  his  mouth 
dropped  wide  open  and  he  stared  blankly  around 
for  an  instant ;  and  then  he  furiously  tore  the  slack- 
ened lasso  from  around  his  waist  and  jumped  to  his 
feet. 

"Who  done  took  me  fo'  dat  grizzly  b'ar?"  and 
he  glared  around  until  his  rolling  eyes  rested  on  the 


Lassoing  a  Grizzly  93 

grinning  face  of  the  lasso-thrower,  while  the  ludi- 
crous grimaces  of  astonishment,  indignation  and 
fear  that  alternately  chased  one  another  over  his 
black  countenance,  set  every  one  of  the  men  around 
him  into  roars  of  laughter.  "Stretch  yo'  big  mouff 
an'  grin,"  and  he  shook  his  fist  at  the  man,  "yo' — 
whar  am  dat  grizzly?"  and  the  look  of  fear  came 
back  on  his  face  and  his  eyes  rolled  wildly  until  they 
found  the  outstretched  body  of  the  dead  bear. 
"Golly,  I  done  br'ak  his  back!"  and  a  grimace 
of  delight  lighted  up  his  face.  "I  done  thought  I 
feel  somethin'  busticate,  when  mah  head  go  crack 
ag'in  his  backbone.  Dar  sart'inly  am  pow'ful 
good  bones  in  dis  heah  head!"  and  Beaut  felt 
proudly  of  the  kinky  top  of  his  head,  all  his  fear 
gone,  now  that  the  grizzly  had  been  killed,  and  all 
of  his  assurance  and  good-nature  back  again. 

The  mysterious  and  sudden  appearance  of  Beauty 
on  the  scene  was  easily  explained.  Thure  had 
fallen  almost  directly  under  the  tree  in  which  the 
negro  had  taken  refuge ;  and,  in  his  excitement  and 
fear,  Beauty,  just  at  the  moment  the  grizzly  was 
about  to  hurl  himself  upon  the  boy,  had  lost  his  bal- 
ance and  tumbled  headfirst  from  the  overhanging 
limb  to  which  he  had  been  frantically  clinging,  with 
the  result  already  narrated. 

"An'  I  done  spec'lates  it  war  a  mighty  good  thing 
fo'  yo'  dat  I  done  drap  out  ob  dat  tree  jes'  per'zackly 
when  I  done  did,"  Beaut  confided  to  Thure,  who  by 
this  time  had  fully  recovered  his  wits,  "or  dat  ol' 


94  Fighting  With  Fremont 

b'ar  git  yo'  fo'  sho'.  Golly,  but  I  war  scart  fo' 
sho'!  I  done  thought  Fs  gwine  to  glory  mighty 
sudden.  No  mo'  grizzly  b'ar  lassoin'  fo'  dis  nig- 
gah — No,  nebber  ag'in,"  and,  with  a  ludicrous 
wave  of  one  of  his  great  flat  hands,  he  hurried  away 
to  look  after  the  mule  carrying  Fremont's  baggage, 
which  was  his  personal  charge. 

As  it  was  already  late  in  the  afternoon  and  the 
location  suitable  for  camping  purposes,  Fremont  de- 
termined to  pitch  his  camp  right  there  for  the  night, 
and  give  his  hungry  men  a  chance  to  feast  on  the 
meat  of  the  grizzly  bear  that  had  created  such  a 
lively  diversion  for  all  of  them.  Accordingly,  in  a 
very  few  minutes,  the  horses  and  the  mules  were 
unsaddled  and  unpacked,  tents  pitched,  camp-fires 
burning  and  great  chunks  of  bear  meat  broiling 
over  the  glowing  coals,  which  the  hungry  men  were 
soon  devouring  almost  ravenously. 

Thure  found  the  grizzly  steak  exceedingly  tough 
and  of  a  disagreeable  flavor;  yet,  so  great  was  his 
hunger,  that  he  ate  it  with  a  relish  that  would  have 
been  impossible  under  other  circumstances. 

"Well,  it's  better  than  eating  mule  meat  any- 
way," he  consoled  himself.  "And  it  would  have 
had  to  have  been  mule  meat,  if  we  had  not  got  the 
bear.  I  heard  Kit  Carson  telling  Fremont  that  we 
would  have  to  kill  a  mule,  if  we  didn't  get  other 
meat  before  night;  and,  somehow,  it  doesn't  seem 
just  right  to  eat  a  mule  or  a  horse,  even  if  the  meat 


Lassoing  a  Grizzly  95 

does  taste  good.  Say,"  and  he  turned  to  Rex  who 
was  seated  by  his  side,  "about  how  much  longer  do 
you  think  it  will  take  us  to  get  to  the  Sacramento 
Valley?" 

"We  ought  to  hit  the  headwaters  of  the  Sacra- 
mento River  about  day  after  to-morrow,"  Rex  re- 
plied ;  "and  'twon't  take  long  after  that  to  get  to  the 
Valley.  You  ain't  getting  tired  of  the  wilderness, 
are  you?" 

"No,  sir-ree,"  Thure  answered  emphatically.  "I 
could  always  live  in  it;  but  I  would  just  like  to  know 
how  everything  is  with  father  and  mother  and  the 
rest,  and  what  is  happening  in  the  Valley.  It 
seems  like  years  since  I  have  heard  a  word  from 
home;  and — and  so  many  things  might  happen." 

"Well,  I  reckon,  you  are  not  the  only  one  anx- 
ious to  get  back,"  and  Rex  glanced  to  where  Kit 
Carson  and  Fremont  and  Lieutenant  Gillespie  sat 
on  a  log  a  short  distance  away  talking  very  ear- 
nestly together.  "I  heard  Kit  say  not  an  hour  ago 
that  Fremont  was  getting  powerful  anxious  to  get 
to  California,  and  that  from  now  on  we  were  going 
to  travel  just  as  fast  as  the  Lord  would  let  us ;  and 
I  reckon,  we  all  want  to  get  there  in  time  to  join  in 
the  scrimmage,  should  there  be  any  fighting,  so 
there  won't  be  any  kicking  over  the  fast  traveling." 

There  was  not  much  left  of  the  grizzly  bear,  ex- 
cept his  skin  and  bones,  when  the  hungry  men  com- 
pleted their  feast  that  night,  and,  with  well-filled 


96  Fighting  With  Fremont 

stomachs,  rolled  themselves  up  in  their  blankets  to 
sleep  the  quiet  sleep  that  comes  to  the  weary  when 
their  day  has  been  spent  in  the  pure  air  of  nature's 
great  sanatorium — the  virgin  mountains  and  for- 
ests. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

A  BRAVE  INDIAN 

D  EX  proved  a  true  prophet,  for  on  the  afternoon 
*  ^  of  the  second  day  after  their  adventure  with 
the  big  grizzly,  they  came  upon  the  brawling  waters 
of  a  swift  mountain  stream;  and  Thure  was  told 
that  this  was  the  beginning  of  the  Sacramento 
River.  They  now  journeyed  down  this  stream  un- 
til they  came  within  a  mile  or  so  of  the  point  where 
the  river  passes  through  a  deep  canyon,  with  nearly 
perpendicular  walls  of  jagged  rock.  Here  Kit  Car- 
son's suspicions  were  aroused,  and  he  warned  Cap- 
tain Fremont  that  it  would  not  be  wise  for  them  to 
attempt  to  pass  through  the  canyon,  since  it  offered 
every  advantage  for  an  ambush  and  he  feared  that 
their  old  enemies,  the  Klamaths,  might  use  the  op- 
portunity it  afforded  to  avenge  the  destruction  of 
their  village. 

"For  the  last  two  or  three  days,"  he  said,  "Dick 
Owens  and  I  and  some  of  the  others  have  been  try- 
ing to  figure  out  what  all  the  Indian  smoke-signals 
we've  been  seeing  lately  mean;  and  we've  con- 
cluded that  the  Klamaths  have  been  gathering  their 
warriors  for  the  purpose  of  laying  a  trap  for  us 
somewhere;  and  we  think  that  that  there  canyon 
97 


98  Fighting  With  Fremont 

is  the  most  likely  place  for  the  setting  of  the  trap. 
At  any  rate  they  have  been  watching  us  all  along, 
and  it  would  be  foolish  to  run  the  risk  of  an  am- 
buscade by  going  into  that  canyon,  when  we  can 
cross  the  river  and  go  on  down  by  a  safer  trail." 

"We  will  take  the  safer  trail,  then,"  Fremont 
said.  "Lead  the  way  across  the  river." 

Accordingly,  a  little  further  down  the  stream, 
when  they  came  to  a  fording  place,  they  left  the 
trail  and,  crossing  the  river,  continued  on  their 
way.  But  hardly  had  they  done  this,  when  a  large 
number  of  Indians  rushed  out  from  among  the 
rocks  in  the  vicinity  of  the  canyon,  howling  with 
baffled  rage. 

"Wai,  I'll  be  'durned,  if  Kit  waVt  dead  right!" 
Ham  exclaimed  admiringly.  "I  reckon  he  must 
smell  an  Ingine  ambush.  I  never  knowed  a  man 
like  him  for  gittin'  on  tew  Ingine  tricks.  'Pears 
tew  smell  'em  out,  same  as  a  b'ar  can  a  squirrel  in 
a  hole." 

"Look  there!  Look  there!"  Thure  cried  ex- 
citedly at  this  moment,  pointing  down  the  little 
valley  ahead  of  them.  "See,  a  lot  of  the  Indians 
are  trying  to  get  in  ahead  of  us.  Ah,  there  goes 
Kit  Carson  and  Godey  and  Owens  after  them! 
And  the  Indians  are  already  running  for  cover! 
Now,  what  do  you  think  of  that!"  he  exclaimed  a 
moment  later  wonderingly.  "Why  don't  that  In- 
dian run  with  the  others?  Don't  he  know  that  he 


A  Brave  Indian  99 

surely  will  be  killed?  He  has  only  his  bow  and 
arrows  and  our  men  have  rifles." 

As  Thure  spoke,  the  Indian  who  had  so  coura- 
geously, if  foolishly,  refused  to  run,  suddenly  leaped 
behind  a  rock,  swiftly  strung  his  bow,  and,  placing 
several  arrows  in  his  mouth  where  he  could  get  at 
them  quickly,  coolly  awaited  the  coming  of  the 
three  horsemen.  The  moment  they  came  within 
range  of  his  bow,  he  began  shooting  at  them  with 
such  wonderful  quickness  and  dexterity,  that  they 
were  kept  so  busy  dodging  his  arrows  that  not  one 
of  them  dared  to  raise  his  rifle  to  his  shoulder. 

"Now,  I  call  that  a  mighty  brave  deed,  if  'tis  an 
Ingine  that's  a-doin'  it;  but  'bout  as  foolish  as 
jumpin'  in  front  of  a  ragin'  grizzly  b'ar  an' 
'temptin'  tew  tear  th'  life  out  of  him  with  empty 
hands,"  Ham  commented,  watching  the  Indian  and 
the  dodging  men.  "They'll  git  him,  an'  he  won't 
git  no  satisfaction  neither.  Thar,  I  knowed  they 
wouldn't  stand  for  that  long.  Now  watch  Kit  Car- 
son, an'  you'll  see  that  Ingine  go  under  sudden." 

At  that  moment  Thure  saw  Kit  Carson  wheel 
his  horse  and,  riding  out  of  range,  dismount  and 
begin  creeping  up  toward  the  Indian,  but  in  such  a 
manner  that  when  he  came  within  shooting  dis- 
tance he  would  be  on  the  other  side  of  the  rock, 
where  the  warrior  would  be  exposed  to  his  rifle 
fire  or  to  the  fire  of  his  comrades,  if  he  moved. 
Thure  watched  the  swift,  unseen  advance  of  Kit 


ioo  Fighting  With  Fremont 

Carson  with  excited  eyes.  In  a  very  few  minutes 
he  had  reached  the  desired  point  of  vantage,  while 
his  comrades  had  been  keeping  the  Indian  too  busy 
for  him  to  give  any  attention  to  the  movements  of 
Carson. 

"Now  he's  got  him!"  declared  Ham,  his  eyes 
glinting  as  they  watched  Carson  slowly  raise  him- 
self up  from  the  grass,  his  rifle  to  his  shoulder. 

For  a  brief  instant  the  rifle  and  the  man  were 
motionless;  and  then  Thure  saw  the  smoke  leap 
from  the  muzzle  of  the  gun  and  the  Indian  bound 
convulsively  up  into  the  air  and  fall  forward  flat 
on  his  face. 

When  Carson  rode  back  to  the  line,  he  brought 
with  him  a  beautifully-made  bow  and  a  quiver, 
which  still  held  a  large  number  of  arrows. 

"Keep  these  in  memory  of  a  very  brave,  but  a 
very  foolish  Indian,"  he  said,  as  he  handed  the  bow 
and  the  quiver  of  arrows  to  Lieutenant  Gillespie. 
"It  looks  a  little  inhuman  to  kill  an  Indian  like  that ; 
but,(  if  we  had  not  got  him,  he  would  have  got  one 
of  us.  Evidently  he  had  made  a  vow  to  kill  the 
next  white  man  he  saw,  or  get  killed  himself,  or 
some  such  crazy  thing.  So  we  had  to  get  him, 
Lieutenant." 

"I  understand,"  Lieutenant  Gillespie  smiled  back, 
as  he  took  the  bow  and  the  quiver  of  arrows. 
"You  can't  put  a  white  man's  way  of  thinking  into 
an  Indian's  skull;  and,  when  we  are  in  the  Indian 
country,  we  have  to  do  as  the  Indians  do  and  some- 


A  Brave  Indian          •'*,'.  ipi  ... 


times  kill  according  to  Indian  fashion,  or  get  killed 
ourselves." 

They  had  no  further  trouble  with  the  Indians 
during  the  day,  although  the  watchful  eyes  of  Kit 
Carson  and  the  other  scouts  soon  learned  that  they 
were  being  closely  followed  and  watched  by  their 
red  enemies. 

Now,  for  the  first  time,  our  friends  were  con- 
fronted with  one  of  the  most  serious  and  difficult 
problems  of  wilderness  traveling — empty  stomachs 
and  nothing  in  sight  to  put  into  them.  That  morn- 
ing had  seen  the  eating  of  the  last  of  the  food  sup- 
plies that  they  had  brought  with  them;  and,  when 
the  hunters,  who  had  been  out  all  day,  came  in,  they 
were  empty  handed.  Fremont  at  once  sent  out  two 
other  hunters,  in  the  desperate  hope  that  they  might 
secure  something  fit  to  eat  before  it  became  too 
dark  to  see;  but  the  only  thing  they  succeeded  in 
killing  was  an  Indian,  whom  they  found  trying  to 
steal  some  of  their  horses;  and,  as  they  were  not 
yet  reduced  to  eating  "Injun,"  this  did  not  allay 
their  hunger  any,  although  it  warned  them  of  the 
necessity  of  keeping  careful  guard.  Of  course, 
there  were  the  mules  and  the  horses ;  but  they  were 
hardly  ready  for  mule  meat  yet,  and  so  that  night 
all  went  supperless  to  bed  and  arose  the  next  morn- 
ing and  set  out  breakfastless  on  the  day's  journey. 

This  was  a  new  and  exceedingly  disagreeable 
experience  to  Thure,  who  had  never  missed  a  meal 
before;  but  it  was  one  of  the  commonplaces  of 


IQ2  Fighting  With  Fremont 

wilderness  travel  to  the  hardy  men  who  were  with 
him.  They  only  tightened  up  their  belts  a  notch  or 
two,  and  the  grimness  of  their  faces  and  manners 
deepened  a  little,  and  they  rode  on  a  little  more 
silently  than  usual.  When  men  journeyed  into  a 
wilderness  they  could  not  expect  the  accommoda- 
tions of  civilization. 

But,  fortunately,  their  fast  was  soon  broken ;  for 
they  had  advanced  only  a  few  miles,  when  out  from 
a  little  grove  of  trees,  where  they  had  been  feeding 
on  the  tender  bark  of  the  new  shoots,  jumped  a 
couple  of  deer.  Thure  and  Rex  were  the  nearest 
to  the  animals,  and,  instantly  springing  off  their 
horses,  they  fell  each  on  one  knee  and  leveled  their 
rifles. 

"I'll  take  the  buck,"  cautioned  Rex ;  and  the  next 
instant  both  rifles  cracked. 

"Hurra,  you've  got  'em  both!"  shouted  Ham. 
"I  saw  'em  jerk  their  flags  down." 

As  he  spoke,  the  buck  tumbled  headlong  to  the 
ground;  but  the  doe  seemed  to  Thure  to  run  only 
the  faster  and  he  felt  sure  that  he  had  missed  her. 
For  a  hundred  yards  she  bounded  along,  as  if  un- 
touched, then,  all  of  a  sudden,  her  four  legs  seemed 
to  give  out  at  the  same  instant  and  down  she  went. 
Thure  afterward  found  that  his  ball  had  passed 
through  her  heart. 

Here  was  meat  for  all;  and  Fremont  at  once 
commanded  a  halt;  and,  in  an  astonishingly  short 
time,  a  goodly  part  of  those  two  deer  was  giving 


A  Brave  Indian  103 

comfort  to  their  empty  stomachs.  When  all  had 
satisfied  their  hunger,  the  journey  was  resumed. 

Game  for  the  next  few  days  was  very  scarce; 
but  the  hunters  succeeded  in  killing  enough  to  keep 
them  going ;  and,  although  they  often  went  hungry, 
they  were  not  compelled,  to  Thure's  great  inward 
satisfaction,  to  eat  mule  meat. 

They  were  now  in  the  Upper  Sacramento  Valley, 
and  hurrying  southward  as  fast  as  their  wearied 
horses  could  carry  them. 

"If  we  have  good  luck,"  Rex  told  Thure  one 
night,  as  they  lay  in  their  blankets,  "we'll  get  to 
Peter  Lassen's  Fort  to-morrow;  and  then  we  will 
know  something  about  what  has  been  going  on  in 
California.  I  hope  it  is  war,  because  California 
can  never  amount  to  much  while  she  is  in  the  grip 
of  Mexico;  but  if  Uncle  Sam  once  gets  his  hands 
on  her  he  will  make  things  hum." 

"That  is  what  father  says,"  Thure  answered. 
"Oh,  I  hope  everything  is  all  right  at  home!  You 
know  father  has  been  having  a  little  trouble  with  a 
bad  Mexican,  and  he  might  get  extra  ugly,  now 
that  there  is  almost  sure  to  be  war  between  the 
United  States  and  Mexico." 

"Don't  take  a  war  tew  make  a  Mexie  extra  ugly, 
he  was  born  that  way,"  broke  in  Ham,  who  lay  on 
a  blanket  near  by  smoking.  "I've  knowed  Mexies 
since  I  was  elbow  high  tew  my  grandmother,  an' 
I  never  knowed  anything  but  pure  cussedness  tew 
make  one  ugly.  I  reckon  they  gits  thar  cussed- 


104  Fighting  With  Fremont 

ness,  same  as  they  do  thar  black  skins  an'  ha'r, 
from  thar  dads  an'  mas.  But  'twill  take  more'n 
an  ugly  Mexie  tew  git  th'  best  of  Noel  Conroyal 
an'  Steeltrap  Smith.  'Scuse  me  for  callin'  your 
dad  accordin'  tew  his  old  name,"  and  Ham  waved 
his  pipe  in  the  direction  of  Rex,  "but,  somehow,  it 
don't  come  nateral  tew  call  him  Holt,  a'ter  knowin' 
him  so  long  as  Steeltrap  Smith." 

"I  love  the  old  name,"  Rex  declared,  "and  I  like 
to  hear  his  old  trapper  friends  call  him  by  it.  It 
brings  to  my  mind  the  old  times  when  Dill  and  I 
were  out  on  our  great  hunt  for  Kit  Carson;  and — 
and  when  I  found  father,"  he  added  in  a  lower 
tone.  "I  shall  never  forget  that  day  at  the  Old 
Mission  of  San  Rafael,  when  that  good  old  priest, 
Brother  Juan,  tore  the  sleeve  off  Steeltrap  Smith's 
arm  and,  pointing  to  the  tattoo  marks  on  it,  almost 
yelled  in  his  great  joy,  'My  boy,  my  boy,  this  is 
your  father!'  Alas,  the  good  old  man  is  dead 
now!"  and  the  face  of  Rex  saddened;  and  for  the 
remainder  of  that  night  Thure  could  not  get  an- 
other word  out  of  him. 

The  next  morning  all  were  in  high  spirits,  be- 
cause it  was  expected  that  night  would  find  them 
in  camp  at  Peter  Lassen's  rancho  or  fort,  as  it  was 
sometimes  called.  They  were  like  sailors  about  to 
enter  a  friendly  port  after  a  long  and  dangerous 
voyage.  For  some  two  months  they  had  been  wan- 
dering through  the  wilds  of  a  virgin  wilderness, 
without  the  sight  of  a  friendly  face  or  the  sound 


A  Brave  Indian  105 

of  a  friendly  voice,  save  their  own,  with  cunning 
and  cruel  Indians  constantly  on  the  watch  to  rob 
and  murder ;  fighting  nearly  every  mile  of  the  way ; 
with  little  food,  except  that  killed  by  their  rifles; 
often  compelled  to  go  hungry;  unsheltered,  save  by 
their  clothes  and  blankets  and  the  trees  of  the 
forests,  from  the  winds  and  the  cold  and  the  storms 
of  the  mountains; — no  wonder  that  even  these 
hardy  men  looked  forward  joyously  to  a  return  to 
some  of  the  ruder  comforts  and  securities  of  civ- 
ilization. 

Thure,  whenever  the  cavalcade  reached  the  sum- 
mit of  an  eminence  that  afforded  a  view  of  the 
country  ahead  of  them,  strained  his  eyes  for  a  first 
glimpse  of  the  longed-for  haven ;  and,  at  last,  when 
the  sun  was  nearing  the  tops  of  the  western  moun- 
tains, his  eyes  were  rewarded,  and,  a  couple  of 
miles  or  more  away,  he  saw,  in  the  midst  of  a 
pleasant  little  valley,  the  low  buildings  of  Peter 
Lassen's  rancho. 

"Come  on.  We'll  ride  on  ahead  along  with 
Fremont  and  Carson,"  and  Rex,  striking  spurs  into 
his  horse  and  followed  by  Thure  and  Ham,  gal- 
loped after  Fremont  and  Carson,  who  were  already 
hurrying  toward  the  rancho. 

Peter  Lassen  and  his  men  welcomed  Captain 
Fremont  and  his  companions  almost  with  opened 
arms,  although  it  was  plain  to  be  seen  that  their 
sudden  return  from  out  the  great  northern  wilder- 
ness into  which  they  had  vanished  some  two  months 


io6  Fighting  WitK  Fremont 

before,  caused  great  surprise  and  gave  rise  to  many 
startling  conjectures  as  to  what  it  might  mean. 
Every  possible  hospitality  that  the  place  afforded 
was  freely  bestowed  upon  them.  Fat  cattle,  from 
the  herds  on  the  surrounding  plains,  were  roped 
and  butchered;  coffee  and  sugar  and  other  delica- 
cies, from  the  storerooms  of  the  rancho,  were  sup- 
plied; and  a  great  feast  prepared  to  gladden  the 
stomachs  of  the  hungry  men;  and,  when  all  the 
feasting  and  the  talking  and  the  story  telling  and 
the  smoking  was  over,  the  men  rolled  themselves 
up  in  their  blankets,  and,  for  the  first  time  in  many 
weeks,  lay  down  to  sleep  with  well-filled  stomachs 
and  with  the  assurance  that  the  dread  war-whoops 
of  their  red  enemies  would  not  disturb  their  slum- 
bers. 


CHAPTER  IX 

SHOOTING  THE  ANTELOPE 

THE  first  thing  Thure  thought  of  the  next  morn- 
ing was  home.  A  couple  of  days  of  hard 
riding  would  bring  him  there;  and,  now  that  he 
was  so  near,  it  did  not  seem  possible  for  him  to 
await  the  slow  advance  of  Fremont  and  his  men 
to  take  him  there.  Besides,  he  knew  that  it  was 
the  intention  of  Fremont  to  remain  at  Lassen's  for 
a  few  days  to  recruit  his  men  and  horses ;  and  then 
to  journey  southward  as  far  as  the  Buttes,  a  well- 
known  camping-place  near  the  junction  of  the  Rio 
de  las  Plumas  with  the  Sacramento  River,  and 
again  go  into  camp  here ;  and  he  did  not  fancy  this 
slow  progress  at  all.  He  was  anxious  to  get  back 
to  the  home  ranch  as  speedily  as  horse  legs  could 
carry  him.  Two  months  seemed  like  a  very  long 
time  to  a  boy,  who  never  before  had  been  away 
from  home  longer  than  a  couple  of  days  at  a  time; 
and  he  really  was  a  little  fearful  of  what  might  have 
happened  to  those  he  loved  at  home  during  his 
absence.  He  could  not  get  the  bad  Mexican,  with 
whom  his  father  had  had  trouble,  out  of  his  head; 
and,  when  he  thought  of  the  cause  of  that  trouble, 
he  shuddered  even  now. 
107 


io8  Fighting  With  Fremont 

He  was  a  petty  officer,  named  Padilla,  this  Mexi- 
can; and  one  day,  when  he  had  stopped  at  his 
father's  rancho  to  rest  during  the  noon  heat,  his 
horse,  as  he  dismounted,  had  become  suddenly 
frightened  and  had  stepped  on  one  of  his  feet;  and 
the  Mexican,  white  with  rage,  was  in  the  midst  of 
giving  the  horse  the  most  unmerciful  and  cruel 
beating  that  Thure  had  ever  seen  a  horse  receive, 
when  his  father,  Noel  Conroyal,  had  strode  out  of 
the  house,  from  a  window  of  which  he  had  wit- 
nessed the  whole  affair,  and,  going  up  to  the  infuri- 
ated Mexican,  had  laid  his  hand  on  his  shoulder 
and  had  told  him  to  quit  licking  that  horse. 

Padilla  at  this  had  whirled  about,  his  teeth 
showing  like  a  growling  cur's,  and  with  a  furious 
Mexican  oath  had  bid  him  mind  his  own  business, 
or  he  would  turn  the  whip  on  him  and  lash  him 
till  he  squealed  like  the  American  hog  that  he  was. 
The  next  instant  he  had  found  himself  lying  on 
his  back  in  the  dust,  sent  there  by  Noel  Conroyal's 
fist.  Like  a  cat  he  had  leaped  to  his  feet,  drawn 
his  knife  and  had  jumped  at  the  American — to 
find  himself  looking  into  the  muzzle  of  Noel  Con- 
royal's  pistol. 

"Drop  that  knife,  and  get  on  that  horse,  and  ride 
off  this  ranch,  sudden,  you  skunk!"  had  come  the 
commands  from  Conroyal's  tight-drawn  lips;  "or 
I'll  muss  up  my  front  yard  with  your  dirty  brains." 

There  was  no  doubting  the  look  in  the  eyes  be- 
hind that  pistol;  and  Padilla,  showing  his  teeth, 


Shooting  the  Antelope  109 

wolf-like,  and  with  eyes  glaring  as  green  as  the  eyes 
of  an  angry  cat,  had  mounted  his  horse  and  gal- 
loped away  from  the  Conroyal  rancho,  swearing 
vengeance  by  all  the  gods  of  Mexico. 

That  had  happened  six  months  ago;  and  since 
then,  in  many  petty  ways,  the  Conroyals  had  been 
made  to  feel  the  wrath  of  the  Mexican  officer.  But 
now,  this  talk  of  war  between  the  United  States 
and  Mexico  might  have  given  him  the  opportunity 
to  wreak  a  more  terrible  vengeance;  and  Thure 
shuddered  at  the  thought  of  his  father  or  mother 
or  sister  or  anyone  dear  to  him  falling  into  the 
cruel  hands  of  Padilla,  and  his  anxiety  to  get  home 
became  stronger  than  ever. 

Then,  he  wished  to  be  the  first  to  bear  the  good 
news  of  Fremont's  return  and  what  it  might  por- 
tend to  the  little  settlement  of  Americans  where 
his  father  lived.  He  knew  that  the  presence  of  the 
American  officer  and  his  armed  men  would  give 
comfort  and  assurance  to  all,  and  that  all  would 
rejoice  at  the  thought  of  the  possibility  of  their 
beautiful  home  land  becoming  a  part  of  the  United 
States. 

Thure  swiftly  considered  all  of  these  things,  as 
he  hurried  through  his  morning's  camp  duties ;  and 
quickly  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  need  of  his 
getting  home  was  so  imperative  that  he  could  not 
wait  the  slow  march  of  Fremont  and  his  men ;  and 
he  determined  to  start  at  once,  if  possible. 

"Rex,"  he  demanded  eagerly,  the  moment  he  saw 


no  Fighting  With  Fremont 

his  cousin,  "why  can't  you  and  Ham  and  I  start 
for  home  at  once,  this  very  morning?  It  is  only 
a  couple  of  days'  ride  from  here,  and  our  own 
horses  are  in  good  shape,  and  we  can  make  it  with- 
out any  trouble.  Why  must  we  wait  for  Fremont  ? 
It  might  be  a  couple  of  weeks  before  he  gets  much 
nearer.  I  heard  him  talking  with  Lieutenant  Gil- 
lespie  and  Lassen  last  night,  and  he  said  that  he 
might  remain  near  here  for  a  week  or  two,  resting 
up  and — and  'getting  the  feel  of  the  situation/  he 
called  it.  It  don't  seem  as  if  I  could  wait  that 
long,  now  that  we  are  so  near  home.  I  am  sure, 
if  you  would  explain  how  it  is  to  Fremont  and  ask 
him,  he  would  let  us  go.  And  Dad  and  Dill  and 
Uncle  Frank  would  be  so  pleased  to  see  you  both." 

"Th'  boy's  right.  Thar  ain't  no  need  of 
waitin',"  and  Ham,  who  had  come  up  just  in  time 
to  hear  Thure's  plea,  turned  to  Rex.  "Fremont 
won't  need  us  for  a  week  or  two;  or,  if  he  does, 
'twon't  take  him  long  tew  git  us ;  so,  I  reckon,  he'll 
let  us  go  all  right.  An'  I'd  like  mighty  well  tew 
see  Con  an'  Steeltrap — 'scuse  me,  I  mean  Frank 
Holt  and  your  dad.  Come  on.  Let's  go  an'  ask  him 
right  now;  anj  we  can  git  started  in  an  hour." 

They  found  Fremont  in  consultation  with  Kit 
Carson  and  Lieutenant  Gillespie  and  Peter  Lassen; 
and,  after  he  had  heard  their  request  and  the  rea- 
sons for  it,  he  readily  granted  Rex  and  Ham  a 
couple  of  weeks  absence,  with  the  understanding 


Shooting  the  Antelope  in 

that  they  were  to  hurry  back  to  him  at  once,  should 
hostilities  begin  before  that  time. 

"Now,  both  of  you,  keep  your  eyes  and  ears 
open,"  he  cautioned,  as  he  was  about  to  bid  them 
good-by;  "and,  if  you  see  or  hear  anything  that  you 
think  I  ought  to  know,  don't  spare  horse  flesh  in 
getting  to  me.  Lassen  tells  me  that  the  air  from 
the  south  is  full  of  rumors  of  what  General  Castro 
is  doing  or  is  going  to  do;  and  I  do  not  wish  to  be 
caught  napping.  I  expect  to  remain  here  for  a  few 
days,  and  then  to  move  on  south  as  far  as  the 
Buttes  and  go  into  camp  there.  Let  the  Americans 
understand  that  I  am  ready  to  protect  them  in  all 
their  rights,  as  far  as  it  lies  within  my  power. 
Give  my  greetings  to  your  father,  Thure,  and  tell 
him  that  I  am  counting  on  him  and  the  other  good 
Americans  in  the  Valley  to  stand  by  the  flag,  if 
there  is  need." 

"Oh,  they'll  do  that!  Every  one  of  them  that 
has  got  any  grit!"  and  Thure's  face  flushed  and 
his  eyes  lighted. 

"I  am  sure  they  will,  if  they  are  at  all  like  you, 
my  boy,"  and  Fremont  smiled.  "Now,  I  must  wish 
you  a  safe  journey,"  and,  with  a  warm  clasp  of  the 
hand  of  each,  he  bade  them,  "go  as  soon  as  you 
like  and  as  fast  as  your  horses'  legs  can  take  you." 

In  less  than  an  hour  after  parting  with  Captain 
Fremont,  our  three  friends  had  said  good-by  to 
their  comrades,  and,  mounted  on  their  horses,  were 


112  Fighting  With  Fremont 

galloping  southward  over  the  long  level  of  the 
valley. 

The  day  was  warm  and  clear.  Not  even  the 
suggestion  of  a  cloud  hung  in  the  deep  blue  of  the 
sky.  There  was  a  feel  of  buoyance  in  the  air,  as 
it  pressed  against  the  warmth  of  the  body  and 
was  drawn  into  the  welcoming  lungs  that  sent  the 
blood  rejoicing  through  the  veins  and  cleared  the 
brain,  like  a  clean  wind  sweeping  through  a  dusty 
house. 

There  was  no  road  for  them  to  follow.  They 
had  only  to  ride  southward,  over  the  smooth  level 
of  the  valleys,  up  and  down  the  gently  rolling  hills, 
through  the  clear,  cool  waters  of  the  mountain 
streams  and  across  the  rougher  outcroppings  of 
rocks,  choosing  their  way  as  they  listed,  like  the 
wild  deer  and  the  buffalo. 

All  the  country  around  them  lay  just  as  made 
by  nature;  and  it  was  all  very  beautiful,  all  in  per- 
fect harmony  with  the  azure  of  the  sky  and  the 
feel  of  the  buoyant  air.  To  the  eastward  the  val- 
ley rose  in  gentle,  grass-covered  swells  or  rough, 
rock-strewn  terraces  to  the  granite-anchored  bases 
of  the  mighty  mountains  of  the  Sierra  Nevada, 
night-capped  with  the  snows  of  an  eternal  winter. 
Westward  towered  the  less  lofty  and  rugged  moun- 
tains of  the  Coast  Range.  And  from  each  of 
these  mountain  ranges,  at  intervals,  like  the  out- 
stretched fingers  of  a  gigantic  hand,  projected,  far 
down  into  the  valley  below,  huge  fingers  of  rock, 


Shooting  the  Antelope  113 

gloved  with  mighty  forests.  Between  these  tower- 
ing ramparts  of  rocks,  wound  and  curved  and 
swayed  the  valley,  sometimes  widening  out  for 
many  level  miles,  again  narrowing  down  until 
rampart  almost  met  rampart;  and  through  the 
midst  of  the  valley  flowed  the  Sacramento  River,  its 
waters  constantly  augmented  by  the  hundreds  of 
rivulets,  that,  dashing  down  the  mountain  sides 
and  murmuring  through  the  valley,  hurried  to  its 
welcoming  bosom. 

The  level  of  the  valley  and  the  sloping  hillsides 
were  carpeted  with  the  greenest  of  grasses,  inter- 
woven with  ribbons  and  clusters  of  blue  lupine, 
golden  buttercups,  white  lilies  and  dainty  hare- 
bells, and  spangled  with  beds  of  the  purple  lark- 
spur and  the  bloom  of  the  thistle  and  the  gold  of 
the  mustard  and  the  red  of  the  rose,  until  it  looked, 
sometimes,  as  if  they  were  riding  through  the  fairy- 
land of  gardening.  Frequent  groves  of  venerable 
oaks,  bearded  like  old  men  with  flowing  moss  of 
silver-gray,  of  mandrona-trees  and  of  sycamores, 
garnished  with  mistletoe,  and  of  other  trees,  gath- 
ered, like  picnicking  crowds,  along  the  banks  of  the 
streams  and  spotted  the  valleys,  giving  a  pleasing 
variety  to  the  scene  and  offering  a  cool  retreat  from 
the  heat  of  the  sun. 

And  all  this  beauty  and  lightness  and  brightness 
was  framed  in  on  both  sides  by  the  dark  green  of 
the  mighty  forests,  creeping  up  the  mountain  sides 
to  the  timber  line,  and  the  dull  gray  of  the  stark 


114  Fighting  With  Fremont 

naked  rock  and  the  white  of  the  snow,  showing 
against  the  blue  of  the  sky. 

Here  and  there  in  the  valleys  fed  herds  of  elk 
and  deer  and  half-wild  cattle  and  antelope,  gazing 
curiously  at  them  from  a  safe  distance,  or  scurry- 
ing swiftly  away,  if  the  horsemen  approached  too 
near.  Bands  of  wild  horses,  frequently  number- 
ing hundreds,  roamed  over  the  soft  level  of  the 
plain-like  valleys;  and,  sometimes,  one  of  these 
bands,  more  curious  than  the  others  or  captained 
by  a  more  daring  leader,  would  charge  furiously 
down  toward  our  three  horsemen,  only  to  turn  and 
circle  wildly  about  them,  with  a  great  blowing  of 
nostrils  and  pawing  of  feet  and  tossing  of  heads, 
as  if  they  were  trying  to  show  their  saddle-ridden 
brethren  how  free  and  joyous  was  the  life  they 
were  living,  unrestrained  by  bit  and  untouched  by 
Spur  or  whip  or  saddle.  Rabbits  leaped  up  out  of 
the  grass  from  the  ground  almost  under  their 
horses'  feet,  and,  bounding  away  for  a  few  rods, 
stopped,  and  sitting  up  on  their  haunches  turned 
and  watched  them  curiously.  Now  and  then  a 
coyote  skulked  away  through  the  grass  ahead  of 
them,  or  they  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  tawny  skin 
of  a  mountain  lion  vanishing  in  a  near-by  thicket, 
or  they  saw  the  huge  grizzly  bear,  monarch  by  right 
of  strength  and  courage  and  ferocity  of  all  these 
valleys  and  forests  and  mountains,  stalking  the 
deer  or  the  elk  or  searching  the  ground  for  mice 
and  ground-squirrels,  all  alike  welcomed  to  his 


Shooting  the  Antelope  115 

voracious  appetite.  Larks  and  robins  and  the 
tufted  quail  and  other  birds  rose  in  flocks  in  front 
of  them  from  the  fields  of  wild  oats,  as  their  horses 
pushed  their  way  through  their  luxuriant  growth; 
and  sang  and  warbled  in  the  trees  of  the  many 
groves. 

Such  was  the  beautiful  Sacramento  Valley  in  the 
spring  time,  before  the  plow  or  the  ax  had  scarred 
its  surface,  before  human  life  had  driven  the  wild 
life  from  its  confines,  before  the  bear  and  the  deer 
and  the  other  game  animals  had  come  to  know  and 
to  fear  the  deadly  rifle.  Try  and  imagine  the  wild 
beauties  of  the  scene.  It  is  the  only  way  you  can 
see  it  now.  Never  again  will  the  Indians  and  the 
deer  and  the  elk  and  the  antelope  wander  in  un- 
molested freedom  here.  Never  again  will  the 
hungry  grizzly  bear  and  the  panther  hunt  in  its 
forests  and  thickets  and  tall  grasses.  Think  of 
the  picture  then,  as  Thure  and  Rex  and  Hammer 
Jones  rode  down  the  valley.  Think  of  the  picture 
now,  with  its  teeming  thousands,  with  its  populous 
cities,  its  splendid  farms.  And  then  think  that 
only  a  little  over  sixty  years,  less  than  the  span  of 
one  man's  lifetime,  separates  that  then  from  this 
now.  No  wonder  the  American  boy  is  proud  of 
his  country,  of  the  achievements  of  his  fathers !  It 
is  a  wondrous  story  of  pluck  and  courage  and  en- 
durance and  enterprise  stretching  from  the  At- 
lantic to  the  Pacific ;  and  some  of  its  most  interest- 
ing pages  are  those  which  our  friends  are  here  and 


Ii6  Fighting  With  Fremont 

now  helping  to  write  in  this  beautiful  California 
land. 

"No  wonder  we  Calif ornians  love  our  land," 
Thure  cried,  as  the  little  party  halted  on  the  brow 
of  a  small  hill  in  the  midst  of  one  of  these  beautiful 
scenes,  to  give  their  horses  a  breathing  space,  and 
his  eyes  wandered  over  the  delightful  picture  that 
lay  all  around  him.  "I  do  not  believe  there  is  an- 
other country  as  pleasant  to  live  in  as  this  is  in  all 
the  world.  And  to  think  that  nearly  all  of  it  is 
enjoyed  by  the  Indians  and  the  wild  beasts;  that 
the  Spaniards  and  the  Mexicans  have  lived  here  for 
over  a  hundred  years,  and  yet  this  glorious  land  is 
still  almost  a  wilderness!  Why,  the  Americans 
have  marched  across  a  continent,  while  the  Mexi- 
cans have  been  settling  the  coast  of  California !" 

"God  sure  did  make  this  country  when  He  was 
feelin'  good,"  Ham  declared  reverently,  as  his  eyes 
slowly  roamed  over  hill  and  valley  and  forest  and 
mountain;  "but  He  sure  did  make  a  mistake  when 
He  turned  it  over  tew  th'  Mexies,  unless  it  war 
jest  for  them  tew  hold  it  virgin  till  th'  United  States 
got  ready  tew  take  it.  Tears  like  that's  'bout  th' 
reasonin'  on  it.  But,  I  reckon,  we'd  better  be 
a-joggin'  on  now." 

All  that  day  our  friends  rode  steadily  southward, 
never  stopping,  except  to  breathe  their  horses,  and 
allowing  deer  and  elk  and  antelope  and  bear  to 
pass  unchallenged  by  rifle  bullet.  They  could  kill 


Shooting  the  Antelope  117 

their  food  when  night  came;  and,  in  those  days  of 
the  single-shot  muzzle-loading  rifles,  few  hunters 
cared  to  venture  unnecessarily  into  a  contest  with 
the  ferocious  grizzly.  Thure,  certainly,  had  no 
desires  to  again  try  his  lasso  on  one.  Even  when 
Ham  pointed  out  to  him  a  particularly  large  and 
ugly-looking  specimen,  busily  turning  over  stones 
in  search  of  the  life  beneath,  and  suggested  that  he 
go  and  lasso  him,  Thure  failed  to  respond.  Like 
Beauty,  he  had  had  all  the  grizzly  bear  lassoing  he 
cared  for  just  at  present.  A  little  before  sundown 
they  came  to  a  mountain  rivulet,  flowing  swiftly 
on  its  way  to  the  Sacramento,  with  its  banks 
fringed  with  trees. 

"We  will  camp  here,"  and  Ham  pulled  up  his 
horse  and  jumped  off  his  back.  "We've  made  half 
th'  distance  tew  Conroyal's  sart'in.  Anyway  th' 
hosses  have  done  all  they  otter.  Now,  jest  as  soon 
as  I  take  care  of  my  hoss,  I'll  see  if  I  can't  git 
one  of  them  antelope  yonder,"  and  he  indicated  with 
the  barrel  of  his  rifle  the  lower  end  of  the  little 
valley  in  which  they  had  stopped,  where  a  number 
of  antelope  were  feeding.  "Nuthin'  like  th'  tender 
meat  of  a  young  antelope  tew  satisfy  a  hungry 
man.  'Cordin'  tew  my  stummik,  th'  sweetest  an' 
juiciest  meat  that  grows  on  four  legs." 

"Please,  can't  I  go  after  the  antelope?"  and 
Thure's  eyes  sparkled  with  eagerness.  "I  have 
often  hunted  them,  and  I  am  sure  I  can  get  one." 


n8  Fighting  With  Fremont 

Before  either  man  answered  their  eyes  carefully 
scanned  the  surrounding  valley  on  all  sides,  then 
Ham  turned  interrogatively  to  Rex. 

"I  reckon  it's  safe,"  he  said.  "Thar  ain't  no  In- 
gines  in  these  parts,  an'  he'll  be  in  sight  all  th' 
time." 

"All  right,"  and  Rex  turned  to  the  eager  boy. 
"You  can  go;  but  be  sure  and  get  one  of  the  ante- 
lopes, or  we  are  likely  to  go  to  bed  hungry  to- 
night." 

"An'  git  a  young  one,"  Ham  called  after  him, 
as  Thure  started  off.  "One  'bout  half-grown'll 
make  th'  best  eatin',  an'  don't  start  foolin'  with  no 
grizzly  b'ar." 

"Not  if  I  see  the  bear  first,"  Thure  laughed  back, 
as  he  hurried  on. 

The  antelopes  were,  perhaps,  three-quarters  of 
a  mile  away;  and,  as  usual,  two  or  three  of  their 
number  were  stationed  on  the  summits  of  the  high- 
est ground  in  their  vicinity  to  act  as  sentinels. 
Thure  had  often  hunted  the  antelope  and  knew  that 
these  watchful  sentinels  would  give  the  alarm  long 
before  he  got  within  rifle-shot,  unless  he  advanced 
with  the  utmost  caution.  But  he  also  knew  that 
an  antelope  is  an  exceedingly  curious  little  animal, 
and  he  knew,  too,  the  way  to  take  advantage  of  this 
curiosity,  so  as  to  draw  them  within  range  of  his 
rifle;  and  it  was  this  knowledge  that  he  expected 
would  enable  him  to  get  his  supper  that  night, 
rather  than  his  skill  at  stalking. 


THURE   GENTLY    WAVED   THE    RAMROD   BACK    AND    FORTH 


Shooting  the  Antelope  119 

First  he  was  careful  to  get  where  the  wind 
would  not  blow  his  scent  to  their  sensitive  nostrils, 
then  he  began  walking  slowly  toward  them,  keep- 
ing watchful  eyes  on  the  sentinels.  There  were  no 
trees  or  shrubs  between  him  and  the  timid  animals, 
behind  which  he  might  conceal  his  advance,  and  he 
was  obliged  to  approach  them  openly.  Conse- 
quently, before  he  had  covered  half  of  the  necessary 
distance,  the  sentinels  lifted  their  heads  and  stared 
wonderingly  at  him.  Thure  instantly  crouched 
down  in  the  grass,  until  he  was  entirely  hidden 
from  their  eyes.  Then  he  drew  the  ramrod  from 
his  rifle  and  tying  a  piece  of  red  flannel,  which  he 
had  brought  with  him  for  that  purpose,  to  one  end 
of  the  ramrod,  he  slowly  raised  it  above  his  head 
and  began  waving  it  gently  back  and  forth. 

"Now,  I  wonder  what  that  queer  waving  red 
thing  can  be,"  the  antelopes  appeared  to  be  saying 
to  themselves,  as  they  watched  the  flutterings  of 
this  little  red  flag.  "It  surely  needs  looking  into. 
Come,  let  us  investigate.  It  looks  interesting." 
And  a  large  stag,  followed  at  intervals  by  the  other 
stags  and  the  does  and  the  fawns,  began  a  halting 
advance  toward  the  object  of  their  curiosity. 

Nothing  happening,  except  that  the  red  thing 
continued  to  wave,  their  courage  and  curiosity  in- 
creased and  they  advanced  even  more  boldly,  the 
largest  stags  still  in  the  lead. 

Thure,  as  he  watched  them  slowly  drawing 
nearer  from  his  covert  in  the  grass,  with  difficulty 


I2O  Fighting  With  Fremont 

kept  from  laughing  at  the  ludicrous  gravity  with 
which  all  went  through  exactly  the  same  move- 
ments and  almost  at  the  same  time  as  did  the  lead- 
ing stags  in  their  timid  circling  advance,  with  their 
funny  little  starts  of  astonishment  and  short  stops 
of  caution.  He  admired  the  beauty  of  their  forms 
and  the  grace  of  their  movements;  and  thought 
what  a  pity  it  was  to  be  obliged  to  kill  one  of  the 
harmless  little  animals.  But,  situated  as  he  was, 
it  was  starve  or  kill  this  or  some  other  animal ;  and, 
consequently,  these  feelings  of  pity  did  not  keep 
him  from  raising  his  rifle,  when  at  last  the  ante- 
lopes came  within  range. 

The  antelopes  were  now  within  short  rifle-range, 
and  very  carefully  Thure  stuck  one  end  of  the 
ramrod  into  the  ground  by  his  side  and  brought 
his  rifle  to  his  shoulder,  as  his  eyes  selected  the 
particular  antelope  he  wished  to  shoot,  a  half- 
grown  buck  that  appeared  to  fulfil  Ham's  injunc- 
tions perfectly.  Swiftly  his  eye  glanced  along  the 
rifle  barrel;  and  then,  at  the  moment  the  sights 
showed  that  his  aim  was  true,  his  finger  pressed 
the  trigger. 

At  the  report  of  the  rifle,  all  the  antelopes  buck- 
jumped,  bounded  straight  up  into  the  air  several 
times,  and  then  stood  staring  stupidly  in  the  direc- 
tion whence  the  shot  had  come,  all  except  the  one 
Thure  had  shot  at  and  he  fell  to  the  ground  after 
the  first  quick  jump.  It  was  not  until  Thure  sprang 
from  the  grass  with  a  shout  and  rushed  toward 


Shooting  the  Antelope  121 

them,  that  they  took  fright  and  leaped  off,  their 
bodies  bobbing  up  and  down  so  rapidly  and  their 
legs  moving  so  swiftly  that  they  seemed  not  to 
touch  the  ground,  but  to  skim  over  its  surface  like 
birds.  In  a  minute,  so  great  was  their  speed,  they 
were  out  of  rifle-shot. 

The  antelope  Thure  had  shot  was  dead  by  the 
time  he  reached  him ;  and,  throwing  his  plump  body 
over  his  shoulders,  the  carcass  did  not  weigh  over 
thirty-five  pounds,  he  started  back  to  camp,  where 
he  found  Ham  and  Rex  already  had  a  fire  blazing, 
ready  for  the  broiling  of  the  flesh. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  RINGING  OF  THE  ALARM    BELL 

THE  next  morning  Rex  and  Ham  and  Thure 
resumed  their  journey  southward  as  soon  as 
it  became  light  enough  to  see  their  way.  All  were 
anxious  to  reach  the  Conroyal  rancho  as  speedily 
as  possible;  and  they  hoped,  by  starting  early  and 
by  riding  hard,  to  get  there  some  time  that  after- 
noon. 

"Dad  and  Uncle  Frank  will  be  surprised  to  see 
us,"  Thure  said,  as  they  were  galloping  along  early 
in  the  afternoon,  "because  they  did  not  expect  us 
back  so  soon;  and  I  know  that  both  of  them  will 
be  glad  to  hear  that  Fremont  has  returned  to  see 
that  the  Americans  in  California  are  treated  right. 
I  do  hope  that  everything  has  gone  all  right  at 
home;  but,  somehow,  the  nearer  I  get  the  more 
anxious  I  become.  If  it  were  not  for  that  Mexican, 
Padilla,  I  would  not  feel  so;  but  I  know  that  he 
would  stop  at  nothing  to  harm  Dad ;  and,  now  that 
this  trouble  has  come  up  between  the  Mexicans 
and  the  Americans,  he  might  trump  up  some  charge 
against  dad  to  get  him  arrested  and  in  his  power. 
That  is  what  I  am  afraid  of.  He  would  not  dare 
122 


The  Ringing  of  the  Alarm  Bell          123 

face  dad,  unless  he  was  backed  by  a  lot  of  Mexican 
soldiers,"  and  Thure's  eyes  flashed. 

"Reckon  'twouldn't  be  none  healthy  for  his  hide 
if  he  did,"  Ham  declared  emphatically.  "Con's 
got  a  fist  like  a  pile  driver,  an'  thar  ain't  many  men 
that  can  git  th'  start  of  him  with  a  gun.  Wai', 
we'll  know  afore  long  now.  We  must  be  gittin* 
somewhar  nigh  Con's." 

"We  are.  Hurrah!"  shouted  Thure;  for  at  that 
moment  they  had  reached  the  top  of  a  little  hill, 
and  the  boy's  face  had  lighted  up  the  instant  his 
eyes  had  rested  on  the  valley  beyond.  "That  is 
Tom  Watson's  rancho,"  and  he  pointed  to  a  cluster 
of  low  buildings  that  crowned  the  flat  top  of  a  small 
hill  a  couple  of  miles  away;  "and  Dad's  is  only  five 
miles  beyond,  just  a  little  ways  the  other  side  of 
that  ridge  of  rocks  over  there,"  and  he  indicated 
a  rocky  rise  of  ground  a  couple  of  miles  to  the 
south  of  them.  "That  ridge  is  called  the  Old 
Sow's  Back,  and  it  divides  Dad's  rancho  from  Wat- 
son's, and  we  can  see  Dad's  from  the  top  of  it. 
Hurrah!  Come  on,"  and  the  excited  boy  struck 
spurs  into  his  horse  and  galloped  down  the  hill  to- 
ward the  ridge,  anxious  to  get  that  first  glimpse  of 
home  as  quickly  as  possible. 

Ham  and  Rex,  although  they  had  said  little,  were 
as  anxious  as  was  Thure  himself  to  reach  the  Con- 
royal  rancho  and  learn  what  had  happened  there 
during  their  absence.  They  knew  the  cruel  and 


124  Fighting  With  Fremont 

revengeful  nature  of  Padilla  even  better  than  did 
Thure,  and  feared  greatly  that  the  present  Ameri- 
can-Mexican imbroglio  might  have  given  him  the 
opportunity  his  cruelty  and  vengeance  desired. 
Consequently  there  was  no  slackening  of  the  speed 
of  the  horses  until  the  foot  of  the  Old  Sow's  Back 
was  reached,  when  they  were  compelled  by  the 
steepness  of  the  ascent  to  draw  rein  and  walk  their 
horses  to  its  top. 

Thure  was  the  first  to  reach  the  summit;  and, 
the  moment  that  he  did  so,  his  eyes  turned  anx- 
iously, almost  fearfully,  in  the  direction  where  he 
knew  the  home  buildings  should  be  and  a  glad  cry 
came  from  his  lips. 

"Hurrah !"  he  yelled  back  to  Ham  and  Rex,  turn- 
ing in  his  saddle  and  grabbing  his  hat  off  and 
swinging  it  around  his  head.  "The  old  home  is 
still  there  and  everything  looks  all  right.  Why,  I 
can  see  the  smoke  curling  above  the  ranch  house. 
Yes,  and — and — but — hark!"  and  his  face  paled 
suddenly.  "That  sounds  like  the  alarm  bell!  It 
is  the  alarm  bell!  And  it  is  never  rung  unless 
something  terrible  happens.  Oh,  what  can  it 
mean?"  and  he  turned  a  very  white  and  a  very 
anxious  face  to  Rex  and  Ham,  who  now  sat  on 
their  horses  by  his  side,  staring  with  troubled  eyes 
at  the  distant  ranch  buildings. 

The  house  of  Noel  Conroyal  stood  on  the  summit 
of  a  flat-topped  hill,  around  whose  base  circled  a 
small  stream  of  water,  known  as  Goose  Creek, 


The  Ringing  of  the  Alarm  Bell          125 

which  flows  through  the  valley  and  some  ten  miles 
farther  down  empties  into  the  Sacramento  River. 
In  front  of  the  house  was  an  open  space  or  court, 
and  in  the  center  of  this  court  stood  a  strong  pole, 
to  the  top  of  which  was  fastened  a  large  bell. 
From  the  back  of  the  house  straggled  off  a  dozen 
low  buildings,  granaries,  sheds,  bunk-houses  for  the 
help,  etc. 

From  where  our  friends  sat  on  their  horses  they 
could  hear  this  bell  faintly,  yet  distinctly,  ringing, 
and  could  see  men  running  hither  and  thither 
among  the  buildings  and  hurriedly  saddling  and 
mounting  horses,  while  from  different  parts  of  the 
valley  they  saw  horsemen  galloping,  as  fast  as  they 
could  make  their  horses  go,  toward  the  Conroyal 
rancho.  Already  a  little  group  of  mounted  men 
had  gathered  around  the  pole  in  the  court  in  front 
of  the  house. 

"Hurry!"  and  Thure's  spurs  dug  wickedly  into 
his  horse's  flanks.  "The  men  are  gathering  and 
mounting.  Something  dreadful  has  happened, 
something  that  needs  the  help  of  every  man. 
Hurry,  or  they  will  be  off  before  we  can  get  there !" 
and  with  tongue  and  spur  he  urged  his  tired  horse 
as  fast  as  he  could  go  toward  the  distant  ranch 
buildings. 

"Wai,  I'll  be  durned,  if  th'  boy  ain't  right! 
Somethin'  sart'in  has  stirred  things  up  at  Con's; 
an',  I  reckon,  we'd  better  git  tew  see  what  it  is 
as  quick  as  th'  Lord  an'  our  bosses'  legs  will  take 


126  Fighting  With  Fremont 

us,"  and  Hammer  Jones  started  after  Thure,  lash- 
ing his  horse  with  one  end  of  the  lasso  that  hung 
to  the  pommel  of  his  saddle. 

Rex  had  said  nothing;  but  the  instant  his  ears 
had  heard  the  alarm  bell  and  his  eyes  had  seen  the 
hurrying  and  the  mounting  of  the  men,  his  face 
had  whitened  with  apprehension  and  his  fingers 
had  tightened  about  his  rifle;  and,  at  the  moment 
Thure  had  dashed  off,  he  had  set  spurs  into  his 
horse,  and  now  the  two  were  rushing  along  side 
by  side,  with  Ham  coming  on  splendidly  a  few  feet 
in  the  rear. 

The  distance  from  the  top  of  the  Old  Sow's  Back, 
where  our  friends  had  started,  to  the  ranch  build- 
ings was  not  over  two  miles,  and  the  greater  part  of 
the  way  was  over  the  flat  level  of  the  valley. 
Never  did  tired  horses  cover  an  equal  distance  more 
speedily;  yet,  before  they  had  gone  a  mile,  Thure 
saw  a  dozen  or  more  horsemen  dash  away  from 
the  pole,  where  the  bell  was  still  ringing,  and  gal- 
lop off  swiftly  to  the  southward,  a  man  on  a  great 
black  horse  in  the  lead. 

"That's  Dad  on  Bilboa !"  he  cried  excitedly,  partly 
turning  in  his  saddle  so  as  to  face  Rex.  "Yell! 
Holler!  See  if  we  cannot  make  them  understand 
that  we  are  coming!  We  must  go  with  them!" 
and  the  anxious  boy  halloed  and  the  two  men  yelled 
at  the  top  of  their  voices  and  all  three  swung  their 
hats  in  a  vain  effort  to  attract  the  attention  of  the 


The  Ringing  of  the  Alarm  Bell          127 

horsemen,  who  rode  on  swiftly  without  a  glance  in 
their  direction. 

"Well,  if  we  can't  go  with  them,  we  can  go  after 
them,"  Thure  declared  pluckily,  as  he  settled  down 
in  his  saddle.  "I'd  give  almost  anything  to  know 
right  at  this  moment  what  the  matter  is.  What  do 
you  think  it  can  be,  Rex?" 

"I  am  doing  no  guessing  now.  I  am  seeing  how 
quick  I  can  get  to  that  crowd  around  that  pole," 
Rex  answered  shortly,  never  even  turning  his  face 
toward  Thure,  but  keeping  his  eyes  fixed  on  the 
excited  group  of  men  and  women  that  still  clus- 
tered about  the  pole  in  front  of  the  house. 

Thure  said  no  more,  but,  as  he  urged  his  horse 
on,  his  mind  was  busy  considering  the  terrible  con- 
jectures that  rushed  one  after  another  through  his 
head. 

"It  can't  be  Dad,"  he  reasoned,  "because  I  am 
sure  that  was  Dad  I  saw  on  Bilboa.  It  might  be 
mother  or  lola!"  and  he  shuddered  at  the  thought 
of  harm  coming  to  his  mother  or  young  sister. 
"Maybe  it  is  an  Indian  outbreak.  Maybe  the  Mex- 
icans are  marching  against  the  Valley.  Oh,  it  is 
terrible  to  know  that  something  dreadful  has  hap- 
pened and  not  be  able  to  tell  at  once  what  it  is !" 

By  now  our  friends  were  drawing  near  to  the 
little  cluster  of  people  gathered  around  the  pole. 
They  could  see  that  it  was  made  up  only  of  women 
and  children  and  a  few  old  men.  Not  an  able- 


128  Fighting  With  Fremont 

bodied  man  was  there.  All  appeared  to  be  greatly 
excited,  and  the  eyes  of  all  were  turned  anxiously 
in  the  direction  of  the  body  of  horsemen  galloping 
southward,  so  that  not  one  of  them  saw  the  ap- 
proach of  the  three  horsemen  from  the  north,  until 
they  came  pounding  into  their  very  midst. 

Thure  was  the  first  to  reach  the  pole;  and,  with 
the  cry  of,  "Mother,  mother,  what  has  happened?" 
he  flung  himself  off  his  panting  horse  and  sprang 
into  the  arms  of  a  weeping,  disheveled,  almost  hys- 
terical woman. 

"Thure !  My  boy !"  and  his  mother's  arms  were 
around  his  neck  and  her  kisses  and  tears  were 
on  his  cheek.  "The  Mexicans— Padilla — lola — 
My  daughter,  my  little  girl !  O  merciful  God,  keep 
her  from  all  harm !"  and  the  distraught  woman  be- 
came incoherent  with  violent  sobbing  and  wildly 
hysterical  ejaculations,  while  Thure  tried  in  vain 
to  comfort  her  and  to  get  some  definite  informa- 
tion as  to  what  had  occurred. 

Rex,  the  moment  he  sprang  off  his  horse,  strode 
up  to  an  old  Mexican  servant,  known  as  Pedro,  and 
seized  him  by  the  shoulder. 

"What  has  happened?"  he  demanded,  swinging 
the  man  around  so  suddenly  that  his  hat  was 
whirled  off  his  head.  "Tell  me,  Pedro,  at  once; 
and  don't  waste  any  words  in  the  telling." 

"Senor,  senor,  I  know  not,  only  it  is  something 
terrible,"  and  the  man's  whole  body  trembled. 
"Not  half  an  hour  ago  the  seiiorita's  pony  came 


The  Ringing  of  the  Alarm  Bell          129 

galloping  wildly  up  to  the  house-door,  and  the  sen- 
orita  was  not  on  her  back,  and  the  senor,  her  father, 
he  go  quick  to  the  pony's  side,  and  he  find,  tacked 
to  the  pommel  of  the  saddle,  a  bit  of  white  paper 
with  writing  on,  and  he  tear  off  the  paper  and  read 
the  writing,  and  he  swear,  santissma,  but  he  swear 
big!  and  he  jump  for  the  bell  rope,  and  he  ring  the 
great  bell,  and  he  shout  for  men  and  horses  and 
guns.  I,  an  old  man,  cannot  longer  ride  and  shoot, 
and  no  one  had  words  for  me.  I  know  not  what 
has  happened,  only  it  is  something  terrible,  and  the 
senorita  was  not  on  the  back  of  her  pony.  I  know 
not  what  words  were  on  the  white  paper,  only  they 
were  terrible  words.  I  long  have  served  Senor 
Conroyal,  but  never  saw  him  look  like  when  he  read 
those  terrible  words  written  on  the  white  paper  be- 
fore; and  the  sefiora,  when  she  read,  she  scream 
and  fall,  like  one  dead,  to  the  ground.  Senor, 
senor,  I  know  not  what  has  happened,  only  it  is 
something  terrible.  I,  an  old  man — " 

Rex  abruptly  unloosened  the  grip  of  his  hands 
on  the  old  man's  shoulders  and  whirled  about. 

"A  fresh  horse !  Two  fresh  horses !"  he  shouted. 
"Here,  you,  Juan,  Pio,  Miguel,  two  of  the  fastest 
horses  left.  Shake  your  lazy  bones.  Quick,  here 
with  the  horses,"  and  he  turned  to  a  number  of 
white-faced,  half-grown,  Mexican  lads,  who  stood 
huddled  together  in  a  trembling  group,  their  dark 
eyes  fairly  sparkling  with  excitement. 

"Three    horses!     Bring    three     horses!"     and 


130  Fighting  With  Fremont 

Thure  tore  himself  from  his  mother's  arms.  "I 
am  going,  too.  It  is  my  own  sister,  who  is  in  peril. 
Mother,"  and  again  his  arms  were  around  his 
mother's  shaking  form,  "God  is  surely  good.  He 
will  surely  keep  Tola  from  all  harm  until  Dad  comes. 
Come,  let  me  help  you  into  the  house,  to  your  couch. 
Yes,  by  the  window,  where  you  can  get  the  first 
sight  of  us  on  our  return.  We  will  have  Tola  rid- 
ing in  the  lead,  so  that  the  first  one  you  will  see  will 
be  lola.  Surely  Dad  and  Uncle  Frank  will  find 
her!  And  now  we  have  Rex  and  Hammer  Jones 
to  help  us!  Do  you  hear,  mother,  we  have  Rex 
and  Hammer  Jones  to  help  us!  Come,  I  will  help 
you  into  the  house,"  and  very  gently  and  very 
tenderly,  for  his  heart  was  deeply  touched  by  the 
agony  of  his  mother,  he  half-led  and  half-carried 
Mrs.  Conroyal,  assisted  by  Rex,  into  the  house,  and, 
placing  her  on  a  couch  near  the  window,  where  she 
could  see  all  who  approached  the  house,  he  whis- 
pered words  of  cheer  and  comfort  into  her  ears, 
kissed  her  lovingly  and  hurriedly  left  the  room. 

Outside  Thure  found  Rex  and  Ham  already 
transferring  their  saddles  and  bridles  from  their 
own  tired  beasts  to  the  backs  of  the  fresh  mounts 
which  the  Mexican  boys  had  brought  with  com- 
mendable quickness,  and  his  own  saddle  and  bridle 
going  on  to  the  back  of  a  third  horse  as  swiftly  as 
the  hands  of  two  of  the  lads  could  place  them.  In 
two  minutes  more  the  three  were  in  the  saddles 
on  the  backs  of  their  fresh  horses. 


The  Ringing  of  the  Alarm  Bell          131 

"Take  good  care  of  mother,"  Thure  called,  as  he 
gripped  his  bridle  rein  and  whirled  his  horse  about. 

"Jest  keep  right  ahind  me,"  Ham  directed,  his 
eyes  for  an  instant  glinting  into  Thure's  face. 
"Rex  an'  me'll  follow  your  dad's  trail,  an'  all  you 
got  tew  do  is  jest  tew  follow  us.  Git  up!"  and, 
with  a  savage  blow  of  his  Mexican  riding  whip, 
he  wore  no  spurs,  his  horse  sprang  away  along 
the  trail  of  the  body  of  horsemen  that  now  had 
disappeared  from  sight  over  a  rocky  ridge  far  to  the 
south ;  and  close  by  his  side  rode  Rex  and  close  be- 
hind him  followed  Thure. 

Little  was  said  on  that  ride,  save  to  the  horses. 
Each  was  busy  with  his  own  thoughts.  Then,  it 
was  now  within  an  hour  of  sundown,  and  they 
must,  if  possible,  overtake  Conroyal  and  his  men 
before  dark;  and  to  do  this  they  must  ride  their 
horses  at  their  utmost  speed,  and  no  one  cares  to 
talk  when  riding  a  horse  at  full  speed.  When  they 
reached  the  top  of  the  rocky  ridge,  over  which  Con- 
royal  and  his  men  had  disappeared,  they  saw  them 
just  vanishing  in  among  the  foot-hills  to  the  east. 
The  trail  had  turned  mountainward,  as  they  had 
feared  it  would. 

"We  must  git  'em  afore  dark,  or  we  might  miss 
'em  in  th'  mountains,"  Hammer  Jones  said,  as  they 
pounded  down  the  other  side  of  the  ridge. 

"We  will  get  them,"  and  Rex's  lips  set  tight 
across  his  teeth;  "and  we  will  get  them  to-night." 

They  showed  their  horses  no  mercy.     Across  the 


132  Fighting  With  Fremont 

level  of  the  valley  and  in  among  the  foot-hills  they 
rode,  as  fast  as  spur  and  whip  and  voice  could  make 
their  horses  go. 

The  sun  had  now  nearly  reached  the  tops  of  the 
western  mountains.  A  few  minutes  more  of  day- 
light was  all  that  they  had  left.  The  road  became 
rough  and,  sometimes,  dangerous  for  fast  riding; 
but  they  gave  no  heed  to  its  roughness,  no  thought 
to  its  dangers.  And  at  last,  just  as  it  was  begin- 
ning to  get  too  dark  to  see  clearly,  Hammer  Jones, 
who  was  in  the  lead,  gave  a  great  shout,  as  he 
swung  round  the  point  of  a  huge  promontory  of 
rocks  that  had  shut  out  their  view  beyond. 

"We've  got  'em/'  and  he  turned  a  glad  face  back 
toward  Rex  and  Thure.  "I  seen  th'  hind  one  on 
'em  ride  over  that  ridge  jest  as  I  rounded  this  p'int 
of  rocks.  They're  not  more'n  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
ahead  of  us.  Git  up!  Shake  loose  your  old 
bones !"  and,  with  whip  and  voice,  he  strove  to  get 
a  little  more  speed  out  of  his  horse. 

When  they  reached  the  top  of  the  ridge,  all  gave 
a  glad  shout ;  for  there,  not  eighty  rods  away,  were 
Conroyal  and  his  men  galloping  across  the  level  of 
a  small  valley.  They  heard  the  shout  and  turned 
in  their  saddles.  Rex  and  Ham  and  Thure  swung 
their  hats  and  shouted  louder  than  ever;  and  the 
cavalcade  ahead  slowed  down  and  waited  for  them 
to  catch  up. 


CHAPTER  XI 

IN    THE  DEVIL'S   TRAIL 

NOEL  H.  CONROYAL  was  a  large  man,  al- 
most as  broad  and  tall  as  was  Ham  himself; 
and,  as  he  sat  on  his  great  black  horse,  Bilboa, 
awaiting  the  approach  of  our  friends,  no  one,  as 
they  looked  at  his  vigorous  form,  his  clear  eyes, 
his  rugged  face  and  hair  still  almost  untouched  by 
the  hoary  hand  of  age,  would  have  credited  him 
with  the  sixty  years  that  he  had  lived. 

By  his  side,  on  a  fine  horse,  sat  a  broad- 
shouldered,  splendidly-built  man,  with  long  hair  as 
white  as  the  snow  on  the  tops  of  the  mountains,  and 
a  smooth-shaven  face  that  instantly  held  the  eyes 
by  its  strength  and  nobility  and  a  look  that  seemed 
to  tell  of  great  suffering  heroically  endured.  This 
was  Frank  Holt,  the  father  of  Rex  and  the  brother- 
in-law  of  Noel  Conroyal,  known  for  many  years 
to  the  trappers  and  hunters  of  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains as  Steeltrap  Smith,  the  man  who  had  been 
captured  and  tortured  by  the  Blackfeet  Indians  and 
had  escaped,  but  only  after  the  horrors  of  his  suf- 
fering had  been  so  great  that,  when  he  recovered, 
he  had  lost  all  remembrance  of  his  former  life  and 
had  hunted  and  trapped  and  fought  Indians  for 
133 


134  Fighting  With  Fremont 

many  years  without  having  the  least  idea  of  who 
he  really  was.  And  the  dramatic  story  of  how  he 
had  recovered  his  memory  and  lost  personality  at 
the  little  Mission  of  San  Rafael  had  been  told 
around  many  a  blazing  camp-fire. 

A  little  back  of  him,  on  an  iron-gray  stallion,  sat  a 
black-haired  and  dark-eyed  young  man,  whose  close 
resemblance  to  Thure,  notwithstanding  the  differ- 
ence in  their  ages,  at  once  told  of  their  near  rela- 
tionship. They  were  brothers;  for  this  was  Dill 
Conroyal,  the  man  who,  when  a  boy,  had  made  that 
famous  journey  with  Rex  Holt  half  across  a  con- 
tinent in  search  of  Kit  Carson,  a  journey  that  had 
ended  so  dramatically  in  the  finding  of  Rex's  father 
in  Steeltrap  Smith. 

In  addition  to  these  three  men,  there  were  a 
dozen  American  and  Mexican  vaqueros,  all  helpers 
on  the  Conroyal  rancho.  Each  was  armed  with 
rifle  and  pistols  and  the  ever  present  reata,  and 
mounted  on  sturdy  and  swift  California  horses. 

Thure  rode  straight  to  his  father;  and  the  hard 
lines  on  the  stern  face  relaxed  and  the  glow  in  the 
wrathful  eyes  softened,  as  he  welcomed  his  young- 
est boy. 

"Father,  what  has  happened  to  Tola?"  Thure 
asked  the  moment  the  warmth  of  the  greeting  was 
over. 

"That  Mexican  dog,  Padilla,  has  kidnapped  her," 
and  the  angry  light  flashed  back  into  his  eyes  and 
his  face  hardened.  "Read  that,"  and,  thrusting 


In  the  Devil's  Trail  135 

a  hand  into  his  pocket,  he  pulled  out  a  bit  of  white 
paper  and  handed  it  to  Thure.  "I  found  it  tacked 
to  the  pommel  of  lola's  saddle  and  the  saddle 
empty." 

Thure  took  the  paper,  and  his  face  whitened  and 
his  hand  trembled  as  he  read: 

"  I  had  need  of  a  servant  and  have  taken  your  little 
girl.  I  will  take  her  to  Mexico  and  train  her  in  the 
way  a  servant  should  go.  You  will  never  see  her 
again." 

"The  cur!  The — cowardly  scoundrel!  But, 
how  do  you  know  it  is  Padilla?  The  words  are 
unsigned,"  and  Thure  turned  a  white  anxious  face 
to  his  father. 

"How  do  I  know  it's  Padilla?  How  do  I  know 
a  bobcat  by  his  snarl?  a  skunk  by  his  scent?  It's 
too  devilish  mean  and  cowardly  for  any  other  man's 
hand,  Mexican  or  American.  It  don't  need  any 
signature.  But,"  and  the  square  jaws  came  to- 
gether so  strongly  that  the  teeth  ground  audibly, 
"he'll  never  get  to  Mexico  with  her.  Fortunately 
Little  Dave,  one  of  my  vaqueros,  saw  the  cursed 
Mexican  bandits  from  a  distance  riding  swiftly 
into  the  gully  that  leads  to  this  valley,  and  so  we've 
wasted  no  time  in  following  their  trail,  but  have 
come  straight  here.  We  can't  be  more  than  an 
hour  behind  them;  and  they  can't  know  that  we 
are  so  close  behind;  and,  consequently,  they  won't 
ride  so  desperate  fast  and  will  likely  go  into  camp 
early,  knowing  that  it  would  have  been  impossible 


136  Fighting  With  Fremont 

for  us  to  have  trailed  them  this  far  into  the  moun- 
tains before  dark;  and  we'll  get  them  to-night. 
We've  got  to  get  them  to-night!"  and  the  grip  on 
his  rifle  tightened.  "No  time  for  greetings  now," 
and  he  turned  to  Rex  and  Ham;  "but  never  were 
two  good  men  more  welcomed  than  you  two  are. 
Now—" 

"Jest  th'  tail  end  of  a  minit,"  and  Ham  caught 
the  rein  of  Bilboa,  as  his  master  whirled  him 
around.  "I  know  this  valley.  Thar's  only  one 
way  out  of  it,  except  th'  way  we  come  in,  an'  that's 
through  the  Devil's  Trail,  a  canyon  more'n  twenty 
miles  long,  with  walls  of  rock  that  no  Mexie  that 
ever  lived  could  climb,  an'  th'  trail  sometimes 
windin'  round  precipices  so  narrer  an'  unsart'in 
that  even  a  mountain  goat  wouldn't  dare  foller  it 
in  th'  dark.  If  they've  gone  in  thar,"  and  he 
pointed  to  a  gash  in  the  wall  of  mountains  that  sur- 
rounded the  valley,  "we've  got  'em  sart'in  sure; 
an'  I  reckon  I  can  tell  within  ten  rods  whar  they'll 
camp,  'cause  it's  th'  only  spot  of  level  ground  big 
enough  tew  camp  on  in  th'  hull  canyon.  It's  'bout 
ten  miles  from  here;  an',  if  we  go  careful,  we  can 
s'prise  th'  devils;  an',  if  we  don't,  they  can  s'prise 
us.  Me  an'  Kit  Carson  an'  Jim  Bridger  once  got 
caught  by  'bout  a  hundred  Ingines  in  this  valley 
an'  were  driven  intew  that  canyon,  an'  I  got  th' 
scenery  impressed  some  vivid  on  my  mind." 

"Good!"  and  there  was  a  jubilant  note  in  Con- 


In  the  Devil's  Trail  137 

royal's  voice.  "You  take  the  lead,  Ham.  But, 
let's  be  pushing  on,"  and  he  headed  his  horse  to- 
ward the  entrance  to  the  canyon. 

Ham  at  once  fell  in  by  the  side  of  Conroyal ;  and 
the  little  cavalcade  started  straight  for  the  Devil's 
Trail,  as  the  canyon  was  named  in  accordance  with 
the  picturesque  and  vivid  nomenclature  of  the 
mountaineers. 

Thure  rode  by  the  side  of  his  brother,  Dill ;  and, 
as  they  galloped  along,  he  told,  very  briefly,  how 
it  happened  that  he  and  Rex  and  Ham  had  returned 
so  unexpectedly  and  opportunely.  "And  we  all 
think,"  he  ended,  "that  Lieutenant  Gillespie  brought 
Captain  Fremont  secret  orders  from  Washington 
to  return  to  California,  so  as  to  be  on  the  spot  when 
the  trouble  started  between  the  United  States  and 
Mexico.  Indeed,  we  half-expected  to  find  the  two 
countries  at  war  when  we  got  back." 

"It  certainly  does  look  as  if  that  was  the  right 
explanation  of  Fremont's  sudden  return,"  Dill 
agreed;  "and  the  air  for  the  past  month  has  been 
full  of  rumors  of  a  war  brewing  between  the  United 
States  and  Mexico;  but  actual  hostilities  have  not 
yet  begun,  or,  if  they  have,  word  of  the  fighting 
has  not  yet  reached  California.  But  I  do  not  be- 
lieve Padilla  would  have  dared  to  have  run  off  with 
lola,  if  he  did  not  expect  the  trouble  to  start 
mighty  soon,  and  give  him  a  chance  to  get  off  un- 
der cover  of  the  excitement.  He  knows  nothing 


138  Fighting  With  Fremont 

short  of  a  Mexican  army  could  stop  dad  from  fol- 
lowing him  clear  to  Mexico,  if  it  were  necessary. 

T « 

At  this  instant  Thure  uttered  a  sudden  exclama- 
tion, and,  leaping  off  his  horse,  ran  to  a  bare  spot 
of  ground  at  the  base  of  a  large  rock  a  few  feet 
from  the  trail,  and,  bending  quickly  down,  picked 
up  something  that  glittered  as  he  held  it  in  his  hand. 
His  keen  young  eyes  had  caught  its  gleam,  as  he 
rode  along. 

"Dad!  Ham!"  he  yelled,  fairly  dancing  up  and 
!down  with  excitement.  "Look  here!  See  what  I 
have  found!  lola's  ring,  the  one  I  gave  her  her 
last  birthday!"  and  he  sprang  to  where  his  father 
and  Ham  had  jerked  up  their  horses,  holding  high 
in  his  hand  a  small  circle  of  gold  set  with  three 
iridescent  opals. 

"Bully  for  lola!  She's  a  powerful  knowin'  gal. 
Wai,  we  sart'in  are  on  th'  right  trail,"  and  Ham's 
face  showed  the  satisfaction  the  sight  of  this  sign 
that  the  kidnappers  of  the  girl  had  passed  this  way 
gave  him. 

Before  he  uttered  a  word  Conroyal  reached  down 
and  seized  the  ring  and  examined  it  closely. 

"It  is  lola's  ring,"  he  declared.  "Thank  God, 
we've  made  no  mistake.  They've  gone  in  there  cer- 
tain; and  we  will  get  them,"  and  he  struck  spurs 
into  his  horse  and  dashed  toward  the  mouth  of  the 
Devil's  Trail,  now  only  a  few  rods  distant. 

For  some  five  miles  the  bottom  of  the  canyon  af- 


In  the  Devil's  Trail  139 

forded  a  smooth  and  solid  roadway,  between  almost 
perpendicular  walls  of  rock,  over  which  Hammer 
Jones  led  the  way  almost  at  full  speed.  Then  the 
walls  came  closer  together  and  our  horsemen  were 
obliged  to  pick  their  way  slowly  and  carefully  along 
one  side  of  the  canyon,  often  over  a  narrow  ledge 
with  a  precipice  yawning  hundreds  of  feet  below 
them  on  one  side.  By  this  time,  too,  the  sun  had 
gone  down  behind  the  mountains,  and,  in  the  depths 
of  the  Devil's  Trail,  the  blackness  had  become  al- 
most impenetrable  to  the  eyes.  They  now  rode  in 
single  file,  moving  with  the  utmost  caution  along 
the  narrow  ledges  and  hurrying  more  rapidly  over 
the  broader  pathways,  but  never  going  faster  than 
a  walk.  At  last  Ham  dismounted  and  sent  word 
back  along  the  line  for  all  to  dismount  and  to  lead 
their  horses  and  to  hug  the  wall  of  the  canyon  as 
closely  as  possible;  for  they  were  about  to  pass  along 
a  particularly  narrow  ledge,  where  a  single  mis- 
step would  hurl  them  over  a  precipice  a  thousand 
feet  deep.  He  also  cautioned  all  to  move  as  silently 
as  possible  and  not  to  speak  a  loud  word,  for  they 
were  nearing  the  spot  where  he  believed  the  Mex- 
icans would  camp,  and  sounds  carried  far  in  the  nar- 
row confines  of  the  canyon. 

Thure  walked  directly  behind  Dill's  horse  and  so 
close  that  he  could  touch  the  tail  of  the  horse  with 
his  hand.  It  was  an  eery  experience  for  a  lad  as 
young  as  he.  The  darkness  was  now  so  great  that 
it  was  impossible  for  him  to  see  even  the  horse  not 


140  Fighting  With  Fremont 

two  feet  in  front  of  him  and  he  was  compelled  to 
feel  his  way  along  the  wall  of  the  canyon  with  one 
hand,  while  the  knowledge  of  the  hideous  depths 
yawning  only  a  few  inches  from  his  feet  sent  the 
cold  shivers  shooting  up  and  down  his  back.  He 
could  not  see,  but  he  seemed  to  be  able  to  feel  the 
brink  of  the  precipice  and  the  black  horrors  below. 
Once  the  foot  of  his  horse  dislodged  a  large  piece 
of  rock.  He  heard  the  breaking  loose  of  the  stone, 
felt  the  start  of  his  horse ;  and  then  came  the  death- 
like silence  while  the  rock  was  falling  and,  a  couple 
of  minutes  later,  a  far-away  sound,  like  the  blow  of 
a  great  hammer  miles  away;  and,  for  a  brief  mo- 
ment, he  trembled  so  that  he  could  hardly  stand. 

They  were  all  taking  desperate  chances,  but  the 
need  was  desperate ;  and  not  one  of  those  brave  men 
hesitated  or  faltered  an  instant,  although  each  knew 
that  a  stumble  in  the  darkness  or  a  step  an  inch  too 
far  to  one  side  would  plunge  him  instantly  into 
eternity. 

For,  perhaps,  fifteen  minutes  they  moved  thus, 
through  that  awful  silence  and  darkness  and  along 
that  narrow  ledge;  and  then  the  whispered  word 
came  back  that  they  had  passed  the  most  dangerous 
part  of  the  ledge  and  that  all  were  to  halt  and  to 
stand  perfectly  still  where  they  were,  while  Ham 
crept  forward  to  see  if  he  could  discover  the  camp 
of  the  Mexicans,  which  he  expected  to  find  round  a 
bend  in  the  canyon  not  more  than  half  a  mile  away. 
Hammer  Tones  felt  confident  that  the  Mexicans 


In  the  Devil's  Trail  141 

would  not  dream  that  any  human  being  would 
have  the  hardihood  to  cross  that  narrow  ledge  in 
the  pitchy  blackness  of  the  night  and  that,  conse- 
quently, they  would  feel  safe  and  keep  little  or  no 
guard  over  their  camp. 

Never  in  all  Thure's  life  did  time  pass  so  slowly 
as  it  did  while  he  stood  waiting  in  the  darkness  and 
silence  of  the  Devil's  Trail  for  Ham's  return;  but 
at  last  he  felt  a  stir  in  front  of  him  and  then  Dill  in 
a  low  voice  bade  him  move  forward  cautiously  and 
told  him  that  Ham  had  returned,  and  that  all  were 
to  come  close  together  for  consultation. 

"Did  he — did  he  find  the  Mexicans  ?"  and  in  spite 
of  his  utmost  efforts  Thure's  voice  trembled  a  little. 

"Yes,  they  are  in  camp  where  he  expected  they'd 
be ;  and  we  must  keep  very  still.  We  want  to  take 
them  completely  by  surprise." 

Silently,  in  the  inky  darkness,  they  all  gathered 
around  Ham,  guided  by  his  low  voice.  When  he 
had  assured  himself  that  all  were  there,  he  told 
them  that  he  had  found  the  Mexicans  camped,  as 
he  had  expected  he  would,  in  a  little  widening  of 
the  canyon,  where  there  was  fuel  for  their  fires 
and  a  little  grass  for  their  horses,  about  three- 
quarters  of  a  mile  farther  up  the  canyon;  and  that 
they  had  built  a  large  fire  and  were  seated  around 
it,  smoking  and  eating  and  apparently  unguarded. 
He  could  not  tell  exactly  how  many  men  there  were, 
but  he  thought  they  numbered  about  fifteen ;  and  all 
were  well-armed.  He  had  seen  Tola.  She  was 


142  Fighting  With  Fremont 

lying  on  a  blanket  near  the  fire  and  did  not  appear 
to  be  bound.  About  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  where 
they  were  the  canyon  made  a  turn,  and,  when  they 
had  rounded  that  turn,  they  could  see  the  light  of 
their  camp-fire.  A  few  scrubby  trees  grew  here, 
and  he  thought  it  would  be  best  for  them  to  tie 
their  horses  to  these  trees  and  leave  them  there.  If 
fortune  favored  them,  he  thought  they  ought  to  be 
able  to  creep  up,  unseen  and  unheard,  to  within 
short  rifle-range  of  the  camp;  and  that  then,  when 
the  Mexicans  discovered  that  they  were  at  the 
mercy  of  their  rifles,  as  they  would  be  standing  in 
the  bright  light  of  the  fire,  they  doubtless  would 
surrender  without  bloodshed,  and  they  could  cap- 
ture them  all. 

"Now,"  and  the  deep  voice  of  Hammer  Jones 
lowered  involuntarily,  "me  an'  Con  an'  Steeltrap 
will  go  on  ahead,  an'  three  on  you  foller  right 
ahind  our  hosses'  tails,  an'  three  more  ahind  their 
hosses'  tails,  an'  so  on  till  you're  all  in  line;  an'  all 
on  you  be  powerful  keerful  'bout  makin'  any  noise 
that  might  reach  th'  ears  of  th'  Mexies,  an'  we'll 
give  'em  a  s'prise  that'll  jolt  all  th'  courage  right 
out  of  'em,"  and  Ham  chuckled,  as  he  gripped  his 
bridle  rein,  and,  with  Conroyal  on  one  side  and 
Steeltrap,  as  he  continued  to  call  Frank  Holt,  the 
father  of  Rex,  on  the  other,  led  the  way  slowly  up 
the  canyon. 

The  trail  now  ran  along  the  bottom  of  the  canyon, 
where  there  was  no  danger  of  falling  over  a  preci- 


In  the  Devil's  Trail  143 

pice ;  but,  in  those  depths,  the  darkness  was  so  great 
that  it  was  impossible  to  see  a  foot  in  front  of  the 
face,  and,  in  order  to  be  sure  of  going  right,  each 
man  gripped  the  long  hairs  of  the  tail  of  the  horse 
in  front  of  him  with  one  hand,  and  thus  all  man- 
aged to  follow  their  leaders  closely  through  the  inky 
blackness  of  the  Devil's  Trail.  When  they  came  to 
the  turn  in  the  canyon,  they  caught  their  first 
glimpse  of  the  camp-fire  of  the  Mexicans,  its  red 
light  shining  up  brightly  against  the  black  walls 
of\the  canyon  and  showing  that  they  had  built  an 
unusually  large  fire,  doubtless  feeling  absolutely  safe 
in  the  silence  and  darkness  of  their  retreat,  as  they 
would  have  been  had  not  Little  Dave  been  so  fortu- 
nate as  to  see  them  riding  into  the  Valley  of  the 
Devil's  Trail.  They  tied  their  horses  to  the  trees 
that  grew  here,  and  then,  still  under  the  leadership 
of  Ham  and  Conroyal  and  Holt,  began  to  creep 
cautiously  toward  the  red  glow  of  the  distant  camp- 
fire. 

Thure  was  tremendously  excited;  and  yet  so 
great  was  the  self-control  that  his  rough  life  in 
California  had  given  him,  that  he  showed  little  out- 
ward sign  of  his  agitation.  He  had  lived  in  a  hard 
training-school  for  the  past  five  years,  where  every 
man  and  boy  was  compelled  to  keep  his  wits,  if  he 
would  keep  the  head  the  wits  were  in,  no  matter 
how  exciting  the  circumstances  might  be ;  and  now 
this  training  stood  him  in  good  stead,  as  the  same 
kind  of  training  even  now  will  stand  any  boy  in 


144  Fighting  With  Fremont 

good  stead  before  he  is  through  with  life.  He 
walked,  or,  rather,  crept  along  directly  behind 
Hammer  Jones,  with  Rex  on  one  side  and  Dill  on 
the  other  and  so  close  that  they  touched  elbows; 
and  so  quietly  did  all  move  that  not  a  sound  of  their 
moving  broke  the  stillness  of  the  canyon. 

Some  ten  rods  from  the  widening  of  the  canyon 
where  the  Mexicans  had  pitched  their  camp,  stood 
a  little  clump  of  trees.  Into  this  grove  Ham  led 
the  men,  cautioning  all  to  move  with  the  utmost 
care,  so  as  not  to  make  a  suspicious  sound,  and  to 
station  themselves  behind  trees,  where  each  could 
get  a  clear  shot  at  the  men  in  the  camp.  When 
this  had  been  done,  the  whispered  command  was 
passed  for  each  man  to  noiselessly  cock  his  rifle  and 
to  stand  ready  to  shoot  instantly  at  the  word.  Then 
Ham  and  Conroyal  and  Frank  Holt  drew  their 
heads  close  together  for  a  whispered  final  consulta- 
tion. 

From  where  he  stood  Thure  could  now  plainly 
see  the  Mexicans  around  their  camp-fire,  could  even 
hear  their  voices  with  sufficient  distinctness  to  un- 
derstand many  of  the  words,  they  uttered.  Ham 
had  been  right  in  his  count.  There  were  fifteen 
men;  and  all  were  reclining  carelessly  on  their 
blankets  in  a  circle  around  the  fire,  smoking  and 
talking  and  laughing  and  card-playing,  as  if  the 
thought  of  sudden  death  was  far  from  every  mind. 
lola  still  lay  on  a  blanket  a  little  apart  from  the 
men.  As  Thure  looked,  she  slowly  sat  up  and 


In  the  Devil's  Trail  145 

stared  around ;  and  he  could  see,  by  the  bright  light 
of  the  fire,  that  her  face  was  white  and  tear-stained, 
and  the  horror  of  the  dreadful  fear  that  looked  out 
of  her  eyes. 

A  Mexican  now  arose  from  his  blanket  and 
stepped  quickly  to  the  side  of  lola;  and  Thure 
gritted  his  teeth  when  he  saw  that  the  man  was 
Padilla.  In  one  hand  he  carried  a  small  riding 
whip.  He  spoke  to  the  girl.  She  looked  up 
angrily  into  his  face  and  shook  her  head.  He 
raised  the  whip  threateningly  above  her ;  and  Thure 
felt  all  the  blood  in  his  body  beginning  to  boil. 
Again  the  Mexican  spoke  and  again  the  girl  shook 
her  head  defiantly  and  again  the  whip  was  raised. 
Then  came  a  startling  interruption.  A  huge  giant 
of  a  man  stepped  suddenly  out  from  behind  a  rock, 
not  three  rods  from  where  Padilla  stood  and  where 
the  bright  light  of  the  fire  shone  full  upon  him  and 
leveled  a  long-barreled  rifle  straight  at  the  as- 
tounded Mexican's  head. 

"Drop  that  whip  an'  hold  up  your  hands  sudden, 
every  man  of  you,"  came  the  command.  "That 
bunch  of  trees  back  of  me  is  full  of  rifles  an'  every- 
one on  'em's  got  a  dead-shot  ahind  it.  Are  you 
ready,  men?" 

"Ready !"  came  back  a  shout  that  made  the  walls 
of  the  canyon  ring. 

The  whip  dropped  from  Padilla's  hand,  and,  at 
the  sight  of  that  leveled  rifle,  both  hands  shot  above 
his  head,  and  his  face  turned  the  color  of  yellow 


146  Fighting  With  Fremont 

chalk.  The  other  Mexicans  leaped  to  their  feet; 
but,  before  a  hand  could  pick  up  a  rifle,  the  answer- 
ing shout  of,  "Ready!"  blanched  every  face  and 
every  hand  went  above  its  owner's  head  as  if  all 
were  worked  by  one  shaft  of  machinery.  They 
were  caught  and  absolutely  at  the  mercy  of  the  rifles 
hidden  in  the  dark  shadows  of  the  clump  of  trees; 
and  they  were  wise  enough  to  know  it. 

Thure,  in  the  excitement  of  watching  lola  and 
Padilla,  had  not  noticed  that  Ham  had  silently 
crept  from  the  shelter  of  the  trees  and  had  glided 
swiftly  yet  cautiously  up  behind  a  large  rock  that 
stood  only  a  few  yards  from  the  men  around  the 
camp-fire;  and,  consequently,  he  was  almost  as 
much  startled  by  the  sudden  appearance  of  the  huge 
deerskin-clothed  man  in  the  bright  light  of  the  fire, 
as  were  the  Mexicans  themselves.  For  an  instant 
he  had  difficulty  in  believing  he  was  Hammer  Jones ; 
but,  by  the  time  the  question,  "are  you  ready?" 
was  asked,  his  rifle  was  to  his  shoulder  and  leveled 
at  Padilla,  and  his  voice  rang  out  loudly  with  the 
others. 

Ham  now  called  on  Rex  and  Dill  to  come  for- 
ward and  disarm  and  bind  the  Mexicans,  while  the 
rest  were  to  keep  them  covered  with  their  rifles. 

This  was  pleasant  work  for  Rex  and  Dill;  and 
they  did  it  so  thoroughly  that,  in  a  very  few  min- 
utes, every  weapon  had  been  taken  from  the  Mex- 
icans and  the  hands  of  each  man  tied  tightly  behind 
his  back. 


In  the  Devil's  Trail  147 

lola,  at  the  sudden  appearance  of  Ham,  had 
jumped  to  her  feet,  stood  for  an  instant  staring 
blankly  at  him;  and  then,  with  a  cry  of  joy,  had  run 
toward  him. 

"Jest  keep  quiet,  leetle  one,  'till  we  'tend  tew  these 
Mexies,"  cautioned  Ham,  never  for  an  instant  low- 
ering his  rifle  or  taking  his  eyes  off  Padilla;  "then 
you  can  git  intew  your  dad's  arms  as  sudden  as  your 
legs'll  take  you." 

And  lola,  her  face  alternately  flushing  and 
paling,  had  stood  quietly  by  the  side  of  Ham,  while 
the  Mexicans  were  being  disarmed  and  bound ;  but, 
the  instant  Rex  and  Dill  signified  that  their  task 
was  completed,  she  uttered  a  glad  cry  and  sprang 
away  toward  the  clump  of  trees.  At  the  same  mo- 
ment Conroyal,  followed  by  Thure,  rushed  forward 
to  meet  her;  and,  in  another  moment,  she  was  sob- 
bing in  her  father's  arms. 

The  Mexicans  were  gathered  into  a  sullen  group, 
where  the  bright  light  of  the  fire  would  show  every 
motion  they  made,  and  a  guard  stationed  over 
them.  Then  Conroyal,  Hammer  Jones,  Frank 
Holt,  Rex  and  Dill,  with  faces  that  showed  how 
thoroughly  the  dastardly  act  of  the  Mexicans  had 
aroused  their  wrath,  met,  in  a  group  a  little  apart 
by  themselves,  to  consider  what  fate  should  be 
meted  out  to  Padilla  and  his  men.  Thure  and 
lola  sat  close  together  hand  in  hand  on  a  rock  a  few 
feet  from  this  group.  They  had  always  been  very 
chummy,  even  for  a  brother  and  sister;  and  now  it 


148  Fighting  With  Fremont 

seemed  as  if  each  had  so  much  to  tell  the  other  that 
the  telling  could  never  be  completed.  Noel  Con- 
royal's  face  was  white  and  drawn.  He  had  been 
compelled  to  exercise  all  of  his  self-control  to  keep 
from  killing  Padilla  with  his  own  hand. 

"I  have  lived  too  long,"  he  said,  when  the  little 
group  had  gathered  around  him,  "to  give  free  reins 
to  my  wrath.  If  I  did,  I  would  string  Padilla  up 
to  the  nearest  tree,  and  leave  him  there  as  a  warn- 
ing to  all  similarly  inclined  dastards,  be  they  Mex- 
icans or  Americans.  But  he  and  the  men  with 
him  must  be  punished,  and  punished  in  such  a  way 
that  never,  as  long  as  they  live,  will  any  one  of  them 
feel  like  ever  again  committing  such  a  cowardly 
crime.  It  would  be  useless  to  expect  the  Mexican 
authorities  to  give  the  full  meed  of  punishment  due 
them,  now  that  they  are  already  nearly  at  swords' 
points  with  us  Americans,  so  that  it  would  be  vain 
to  turn  the  wretches  over  to  them.  We  must  take 
their  punishment  into  our  own  hands.  God  forbid 
that  we  should  do  aught  in  blind  wrath  or  from  the 
bitterness  of  our  outraged  manhood.  Now,  let  us 
proceed  to  judge  the  prisoners,  calmly  and  deliber- 
ately, as  is  befitting  men  who  one  day  will  stand  be- 
fore the  All-wise  Judge.  Bring  Padilla  before  us." 

Rex  and  Dill  at  once  hurried  to  the  group  of 
prisoners  and  returned  with  Padilla. 

The  Mexican's  face  was  of  the  color  of  yellow 
chalk,  and  was  wet  with  the  sweat  of  fear,  and  his 
knees  bent  and  quivered.  He  knew  with  what  hor- 


In  the  Devil's  Trail  149 

rors  of  torture  he  would  slay,  if  he  stood  in  the 
place  of  his  judges ;  and  his  cowardly  spirit  cringed 
and  shivered  at  the  thought  of  the  dreadful  death 
that  now  surely  would  be  his. 

"You  know  this  cur's  crime,  so  there  is  no  need 
of  dwelling  on  that.  What  shall  his  punishment 
be?"  and  Noel  Conroyal,  his  face  white  and  his  lips 
set  very  firmly  across  his  teeth,  turned  to  his  com- 
rades. 

"I  always  kill  a  p'isen-snake,  whenever  I  find 
one,"  Ham  suggested  grimly. 

"No,"  and  the  word  came  very  emphatically  from 
between  Conroyal's  lips.  "We  will  leave  the  man- 
ner of  his  death  in  the  hands  of  his  God.  Yet  we 
can  not  hold  him  and  his  men  prisoners.  We  must 
punish  them  here  and  now." 

"Then,"  and  Ham's  face  hardened  and  his  eyes 
glinted  savagely,  "seein'  that  thar's  tew  be  no  killin' 
an*  no  prisoner  holdin',  I  reckon,  thar's  only  one 
kind  of  punishment  that'll  fit  that  sneak  and  his 
men,"  and  Padilla  shrank  from  the  glare  in  the 
eyes  that  were  turned  upon  him;  "an'  that's  flog- 
gin'." 

"And  taking  and  keeping  all  their  weapons," 
added  Rex. 

"And  their  horses,"  suggested  Dill. 

"And  leave  them  here  in  the  Devil's  Trail,  after 
each  has  had  his  flogging,  without  a  weapon  or  a 
horse,  to  find  their  way  out  as  best  they  can.  'Tis 
the  most  fitting  punishment  for  their  crime  this  side 


150  Fighting  With  Fremont 

of  hanging.  I  give  my  vote  for  it,"  and  Frank 
Holt's  eyes  rested  sternly  on  the  cowering  Mexican. 

"Good.  Let  that  be  their  punishment,  then. 
But,"  and  Noel  Conroyal's  eyes  turned  to  the  faces 
of  his  young  son  and  daughter,  as  he  added  in  a 
lower  voice,  "the  scene  will  not  do  for  the  eyes  of 
childhood.  We  will  take  them  to  the  little  grove 
of  trees,  where  we  left  our  horses." 

A  couple  of  men  were  now  left  with  Thure  and 
lola;  and  the  others,  lighted  by  pine  torches  and 
driving  the  Mexicans  before  them,  marched  off 
ominously  into  the  darkness  of  the  canyon. 

"What  are  they  going  to  do  with  them?"  and 
Tola's  face  whitened,  as  she  watched  the  Mexicans 
led  away.  "I  don't  want  them  shot  or  hanged," 
and  she  started  to  jump  to  her  feet. 

"Sit  down,"  and  Thure  caught  hold  of  her  hand 
and  pulled  her  down  by  his  side.  "They  are  not 
going  to  kill  them,  bad  as  they  deserve  it.  They 
are  only  going  to  flog  them ;  and,"  he  added,  under 
his  breath,  "I  hope  they  flog  them  good  and  hard. 
They  deserve  to  be  hanged,  but  dad  won't  allow  it." 

A  couple  of  hours  passed,  to  the  two  waiting  chil- 
dren it  seemed  much  longer ;  and  then  they  saw  the 
glow  of  approaching  torches  and  a  few  minutes 
later  the  procession  of  captors  and  captives  marched 
back  into  camp,  the  Mexicans  white-faced  and  sul- 
len-eyed and  moving  as  if  every  step  caused  them 
agony.  Padilla  could  hardly  stand;  and,  t-he  mo- 
ment he  reached  the  camp-fire,  he  sank  down  on  the 


In  the  Devil's  Trail  151 

ground,  groaning  and  cursing  and  vowing  ven- 
geance on  all  Americanos. 

"Keep  that  blackguard  tongue  still ;  or  I'll  ram  a 
piece  of  your  shirt  down  your  dirty  throat,"  Ham 
cautioned,  stopping  to  glower  down  on  the  cower- 
ing man.  "You  ought  tew  have  ben  hanged  by 
rights;  but  we  bein'  some  civilized  couldn't  string 
up  even  a  Greaser,"  and,  bending  down  to  see  that 
his  hands  were  still  safely  tied  behind  his  back,  he 
passed  on. 

Padilla  glared  after  him,  the  venom  fairly  drip- 
ping from  his  eyes;  but  he  did  no  more  cursing,  at 
least,  not  aloud. 

All  the  horses  had  now  been  brought  into  camp ; 
and,  after  consultation,  it  was  determined  to  camp 
right  where  they  were  for  the  rest  of  the  night  and 
to  wait  until  daylight  before  attempting  to  pass  out 
of  the  canyon.  Accordingly  a  guard  was  set  over 
the  Mexicans;  and  the  others  rolled  themselves  up 
in  their  blankets  and  were  soon  sound  asleep. 

Thure,  now  that  the  excitement  was  all  over, 
found  himself  so  thoroughly  tired  out,  that,  hardly 
had  his  head  touched  his  saddle,  when  his  eyes  were 
shut  and  the  excitements  and  perils  of  the  day  were 
lost  in  unconsciousness. 


CHAPTER  XII 

IOLA 

T  OLA  CONROYAL  was  now  thirteen  years  old, 
*  and  five  of  these  years  had  been  spent  on  her 
father's  rancho  in  the  beautiful  Valley  of  the  Sac- 
ramento, where  she  had  lived  the  healthful  outdoor 
life  almost  of  one  of  her  father's  vaqueros.  No  boy 
in  the  Valley  could  ride  a  horse  better  than  could 
she;  and  few  of  her  boy  friends  could  surpass  her 
skill  in  shooting  the  rifle  or  throwing  the  riata. 
Her  father  was  a  thorough  believer  in  the  outdoor 
life  for  boy  or  girl;  and  lola  had  been  given  the 
same  outdoor  training  that  Thure  had  had;  and 
had  played  and  rode  and  hunted  and  fished  with  him 
and  his  boy  friends  almost  with  the  freedom  of  a 
boy.  And  yet  a  more  sweet  and  loving  little  blos- 
som of  femininity  than  was  lola,  from  the  witchery 
of  her  dark  eyes  to  the  lithe  gracefulness  of  her  per- 
fectly healthy  and  supple  little  body,  would  have 
been  difficult  to  find  anywhere,  no  matter  what  the 
bringing  up  had  been.  She  was  not  in  the  least 
boyish  in  her  looks  and  acts,  only  she  had  lost  much 
of  a  girl's  timidity  and  squeamishness  over  little 
things,  and  could  face  danger  and  endure  hardships 
as  pluckily  as  could  any  boy. 
152 


lola  153 

Such  was  lola ;  and,  being  such  a  girl,  with  such 
a  training,  her  perilous  experience  with  the  brutal 
Padilla  and  his  men  had  had  no  ill  effects  that  a 
night's  rest  and  sleep  had  not  served  to  drive  away ; 
and,  when  morning  dawned,  all  the  roses  and 
dimples  were  back  in  her  cheeks,  and  her  only  anx- 
iety was  to  get  back  to  her  mother  as  quickly  as 
possible,  so  as  to  relieve  the  agonizing  worry  of  the 
mother-heart  that  she  knew  would  throb  and  ache 
with  dreadful  apprehensions  until  her  safe  return. 
Accordingly,  the  moment  she  awoke,  she  jumped  up 
from  her  blanket  and  ran  to  her  father,  who  was 
already  saddling  his  horse. 

"How  long  will  it  take  to  get  to  mother,  dad?" 
she  asked,  as  he  caught  her  up  in  his  arms  to  give 
her  his  morning's  kiss.  "I  know  she  will  be  wor- 
rying terribly  about  me,  and  I  want  to  let  her  know 
that  I  am  safe  and  unharmed  just  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible." 

"Four  or  five  hours,  possibly,"  and  Conroyal  set 
the  girl  down  on  her  feet.  "We  will  make  the 
horses'  legs  fly,  once  we  get  out  of  the  mountains 
and  into  the  valley ;  for  your  mother  sure  was  wor- 
rying some.  Say,  but  your  old  dad's  heart  is  sing- 
ing with  joy  to  have  his  little  girl  back  in  his  arms 
and  unharmed.  Oh,  but  we  will  have  a  great  cele- 
bration when  we  get  home!"  and  he  again  caught 
her  up  in  his  arms,  and  hugged  and  kissed  her  un- 
til the  hungering  of  the  father-love  was  appeased. 
"We  sure  will  kill  the  fatted  calf!" 


154  Fighting  With  Fremont 

"And  can  Thure  and  I  invite  all  our  friends  to 
help  in  the  celebration?"  and  lola's  eyes  began  to 
dance  and  sparkle  joyously.  "Can  we  have  a  pic- 
nic in  the  beautiful  grove  near  the  Laughing 
Springs,  with  horse-racing  and  shooting  contests 
and  games  and  a  big  feast,  and  the  fattest  calf, 
dad,  the  fattest  calf  in  the  herd  to  roast  ?"  The  de- 
lighted girl  was  now  fairly  dancing  up  and  down  in 
front  of  her  father. 

"Yes,  yes,  you  shall  have  all  of  that.  I  want 
everybody  in  the  Valley  to  know  how  glad  I  am  to 
get  my  little  girl  safe  back." 

"And  a  dance  at  night  in  the  house-sala  for  the 
big  folks,  with  Pedro's  band  to  play  the  sweet 
music?" 

"Yes,  yes,"  again  declared  the  happy  father. 

"Oh-h,  you  are  the  goodest  dad  a  little  girl  ever 
had !"  and,  with  a  bound,  her  arms  were  around  his 
neck  and  her  kisses  were  telling  him  how  much  she 
loved  him.  But,  the  next  moment,  her  arms  slowly 
unloosened  and  her  face  sobered  and  tears  came  into 
her  eyes.  "And  poor  mama  is  suffering  all  this 
time,  because  she  doesn't  know  what  has  happened 
to  her  little  girl.  Come,  let  us  hurry  home.  I 
want  to  kiss  mama  and  tell  her  how  much  I  love 
her." 

"We  will  start  in  five  minutes,"  and  the  grim 
look  came  back  on  her  father's  face.  "That  is  your 
riding  horse  that  Dill  is  saddling.  Now  run  to  him 
and  get  acquainted  with  the  horse." 


lola  155 

By  this  time  the  light  of  the  morning  had  reached 
the  bottom  of  the  canyon;  and  everything  was 
shortly  made  ready  to  start  homeward.  lola,  with 
Rex  and  his  father  riding  ahead  and  flanked  on 
either  side  by  Thure  and  Dill,  led  the  way  down  the 
canyon.  Behind  them  came  the  men,  each  one  of 
them  leading  one  or  more  of  the  Mexicans'  horses, 
with  the  captured  weapons  tied  to  their  saddles. 
Noel  Conroyal  and  Hammer  Jones  did  not  mount 
with  the  others.  They  had  a  little  necessary  busi- 
ness to  transact  before  they  left ;  and  waited,  stand- 
ing by  their  horses'  sides,  their  stern  eyes  on  the 
little  bunch  of  Mexican  captives,  until  the  cavalcade 
had  passed  from  sight  around  a  bend  in  the  canyon. 
Then  both  men  strode  close  up  to  the  Mexicans, 
Conroyal  stopping  directly  in  front  of  Padilla. 

"Padilla,"  he  said,  "because  we  are  men,  not 
brutes,  we  have  spared  your  lives  this  time.  But," 
and  his  face  hardened  and  his  eyes  glinted,  "if  a 
like  crime  is  again  committed  by  you  or  any  of  your 
men  here,  we  will  know  that  our  mercy  was  wasted 
and  will  kill  you  on  sight,  as  we  would  poison- 
snakes.  Ham,  cut  their  bonds.  I  will  stand 
guard,"  and,  drawing  his  pistols  from  his  belt  and 
cocking  them,  he  stood  with  one  ready  in  each  hand, 
while  Ham,  his  hunting-knife  in  his  hand,  passed 
behind  each  man  and  severed  the  bonds  that  had 
bound  his  wrists  together  behind  his  back. 

Padilla  had  started  to  speak;  but,  at  his  first 
word,  Ham  had  doubled  up  his  big  fist  and  had 


156  Fighting  With  Fremont 

taken  a  step  toward  him,  and  the  words  had  choked 
themselves  into  silence  in  Padilla's  throat.  That 
was  sufficient.  Not  another  Mexican  attempted  to 
utter  a  word ;  but  all  stood  glowering  sullenly  from 
under  their  heavy  eyebrows  out  of  their  black  eyes 
at  the  two  Americanos. 

When  the  last  bond  had  been  cut,  Conroyal 
pointed  with  one  of  his  pistols  up  the  canyon,  the 
opposite  direction  from  that  which  his  men  had 
taken. 

"Go  r  he  said. 

The  Mexicans  waited  no  second  bidding ;  but,  in- 
stantly, started  up  the  canyon ;  and,  as  they  hurried 
on  their  way,  they  cast  furtive  glances  over  their 
shoulders  at  the  two  stern-faced  men  who  stood 
silently  watching  them.  When  they  had  gone  a 
couple  of  hundred  yards  and  just  before  they 
reached  a  bend  in  the  canyon  that  would  hide  them 
from  view,  Padilla  turned  and,  shaking  his  fists  vio- 
lently at  them,  hurled  a  volley  of  Mexican  curses  in 
their  direction. 

"Th'  cowardly  skunk!  I  knowed  we  otter  have 
hanged  him,"  and  Ham  with  a  quick  movement, 
threw  his  rifle  to  his  shoulder. 

Padilla  saw  the  motion  and  scuttled  around  the 
point  of  rocks,  like  a  terrified  rabbit. 

"I  knowed  that  would  stop  his  cussin',"  and, 
chuckling,  Ham  lowered  his  rifle. 

Conroyal  and  Hammer  Jones  now  mounted  their 
horses  and  hurriedly  rode  down  the  canyon  to  where 


lola  157 

lola  and  Thure  and  the  others  had  stopped  to  await 
their  coming.  As  the  two  men  rode  up  lola  eyed 
her  father  a  bit  apprehensively,  as  if  she  half  ex- 
pected to  find  his  hands  red  with  the  blood  of  the 
Mexicans. 

"You — you  didn't  do  anything  more  to  those 
Mexicans,  did  you,  dad?"  she  asked,  falteringly. 

"Not  a  thing,"  he  answered  grimly,  as  he  rode  up 
close  to  her  side.  "Just  cut  their  bonds  and  told 
them  to  get  up  the  canyon ;  and  they  got.  Now  for- 
get them  yellow  skunks.  It's  home  for  us  now, 
just  as  fast  as  our  horses'  legs  can  take  us  there." 

The  trail  now  began  to  climb  up  along  the  side 
of  the  canyon,  becoming  narrower  with  every  step 
advanced,  until  it  was  not  possible  for  two  horses 
to  walk  abreast  over  it ;  and  presently  they  came  to 
the  narrow  shelf  of  rock  over  which  they  had  passed 
so  cautiously  in  the  darkness  of  the  night  before. 

Thure  shuddered,  when  he  saw  how  narrow  was 
this  shelf  and  how  high  it  hung  above  the  bottom 
of  the  canyon.  Even  in  the  clear  daylight,  when 
every  step  could  be  cautiously  guarded,  it  would  be 
a  fearful  trail  to  follow;  but,  in  the  blackness  of 
the  night,  when  the  eyes  could  not  see  two  inches 
in  front  of  them — Again  Thure  shuddered;  and 
was  very  thankful  that  he  had  not  known  how  close 
he  was  walking  to  the  lip  of  the  precipice  of  death 
that  night  when  he  crept  along  in  the  black  dark- 
ness holding  to  the  long  hairs  of  the  tail  of  the 
horse  in  front  of  him. 


158  Fighting  With  Fremont 

Fortunately  all  rode  horses  that  were  accustomed 
to  mountain  traveling  and  almost  as  sure-footed  as 
were  the  mountain  goats  themselves;  and  the  shelf 
was  passed  over  in  safety,  although  in  places  its 
width  narrowed  down  to  less  than  three  feet  and 
hung  a  good  five  hundred  feet  straight  above  the 
bottom  of  the  canyon. 

Now  the  way  became  easier,  and  soon  they  were 
galloping  along  over  the  rocky  bottom  of  the  Devil's 
Trail,  and  out  into  the  little  valley,  and  on  through 
gullies  and  other  small  valleys  and  up  and  down 
rocky  hillsides,  until  at  last  the  mountains  were  left 
behind  and  only  the  rolling  level  of  the  Sacramento 
Valley  lay  before  them. 

Thure,  true  to  his  promise  to  his  mother,  when 
the  last  ridge  that  lay  between  them  and  the  home- 
ranch  was  drawing  near,  galloped  on  ahead  with 
lola;  so  that,  when  the  cavalcade  came  riding  over 
the  ridge,  where  it  could  be  seen  by  the  watchers  at 
home,  lola  would  be  the  first  to  gladden  the  sight 
of  their  eyes. 

"I  think,"  Thure  said,  as  they  rode  up  the  incline, 
"that,  if  you  will  be  waving  something  when  we 
ride  down  the  other  side,  mother  will  know  it  is 
you  and  that  you  are  safe,  even  if  she  can't  recog- 
nize you  so  far.  At  least  the  waving  will  tell  her 
that  everything  is  all  right  with  you." 

"I  will  wave  my  mantilla  and  you  can  wave  your 
hat  and  I  will  race  you  to  the  bell  pole.  The  first 
one  there  to  have  the  first  hug  and  kiss  from 


lola  159 

mother,"  and  the  excited  girl's  face  flushed  and  her 
eyes  scintillated  like  black  diamonds. 

"Bully!"  agreed  Thure  enthusiastically.  "Your 
home-coming  will  be  almost  as  joyful  as  was  the  re- 
turn of  the  Prodigal  Son.  Now,  get  your  mantilla 
ready.  We're  at  the  top." 

At  that  moment  they  reached  the  summit  of  the 
ridge;  and  far  off  across  the  valley  they  could  see 
the  buildings  of  the  Conroyal  rancho.  lola  quickly 
loosened  her  mantilla  from  around  her  neck  and 
Thure  caught  off  his  hat. 

"Now,"  cried  the  girl,  tightening  her  grip  on  the 
bridle  reins  and  settling  herself  down  in  her  sad- 
dle, "I'll  count  three;  and,  at  the  word,,  three,  the 
race  begins.  Are  you  ready  ?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Thure,  taking  a  firm  grip  of 
the  broad  brim  of  his  hat.  "Let  her  go;  but  don't 
forget  the  waving." 

"One,  two,  THREE!"  shouted  Tola;  and  they 
were  off,  the  mantilla  and  the  hat  waving  frantic 
circles  in  the  air  about  their  heads. 

The  distance  from  the  top  of  the  ridge  to  the  bell 
pole  in  front  of  the  house  was  some  two  miles ;  but 
both  were  mounted  on  sturdy  California-bred 
horses,  accustomed  to  long  and  fast  riding;  and, 
notwithstanding  they  had  journeyed  far  that  morn- 
ing, they  were  still  good  for  the  two  miles. 

For  the  first  half  mile  the  two  rode  almost 
abreast,  then,  gradually,  lola's  horse  began  forg- 
ing ahead.  She  was  a  splendid  rider  and  knew 


160  Fighting  With  Fremont 

how  to  get  the  utmost  speed  out  of  her  horse  almost 
as  well  as  does  the  modern  jockey.  Then,  too,  she 
was  considerable  lighter  than  was  Thure;  and  the 
weight  of  the  rider  had  much  to  do  with  the  win- 
ning of  a  race  of  this  length.  At  any  rate  her 
horse  continued  to  gain;  but  so  slowly,  that,  when 
they  were  within  a  half  mile  of  the  bell  pole,  she 
was  still  only  a  few  feet  ahead  of  Thure. 

The  moment  the  two  riders  had  dashed  down  the 
side  of  the  ridge,  followed  by  Conroyal  and  his  men, 
they  had  been  seen  by  the  watchers  at  the  house. 
Instantly  some  one  shouted,  "Here  they  come! 
Here  they  come!"  and  some  one  sprang  to  the  bell 
rope  and  began  ringing  the  big  bell  violently;  and 
then,  from  all  directions,  women  and  children  and 
men  rushed  to  the  court  in  front  of  the  house,  and 
stood,  frantic  with  excitement,  watching  the  swift 
advance  of  the  cavalcade. 

Mrs.  Conroyal  had  been  reclining  on  a  couch 
close  by  the  window;  and,  at  the  first  shout,  she 
had  jumped  to  her  feet  and  rushed  out  of  the  house ; 
and  now  stood,  with  the  others  around  the  bell  pole, 
straining  her  eyes  at  the  rapidly  oncoming  riders. 

"It  is  lola !  God  is  good !  They  have  found  my 
little  girl !  See,  it  is  she  who  rides  ahead,  waving 
her  mantilla/'  she  cried  joyously,  almost  the  mo- 
ment her  eyes  rested  on  the  figure  coming  so  swiftly 
on  the  back  of  the  leading  horse.  "My  girl,  my  lit- 
tle girl!  Thank  the  good  God,  she  is  safe!"  she 
kept  murmuring  over  and  over,  until  the  two  foam- 


Tola  161 

flecked  horses,  lola's  a  rod  ahead,  were  jerked  to  a 
plunging  halt  almost  at  her  feet,  and,  with  a  cry  of 
rapture,  she  caught  the  girl  in  her  arms,  as  she 
jumped  from  the  saddle. 

The  rest  of  that  day  was  a  gala  day  at  the  Con- 
royal  rancho.  The  master  gave  money  and  food  to 
the  vaqueros  and  the  other  servants,  and  bade  them 
feast  and  rejoice;  while  he  gathered  his  family,  in- 
cluding Hammer  Jones,  you  may  be  sure,  in  the 
sanctuary  of  his  home,  and  celebrated  with  feasting 
and  much  joyous  'talking  the  rescue  of  lola  and  the 
fortunate  coming  of  Thure  and  Rex  and  Hammer 
Jones. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  MAD  STALLION 

rancho  of  Noel  Conroyal,  consisting  of 
1  some  twenty  thousand  acres  of  the  richest  val- 
ley land,  was  bounded  on  the  north  by  the  rocky 
ridge  known  as  the  Old  Sow's  Back,  and  ran  south- 
ward along  both  sides  of  Goose  Creek  for  nearly 
ten  miles.  The  house,  flanked  by  the  other  build- 
ings, stood  on  the  summit  of  a  low  flat-topped  hill, 
around  whose  base  half-circled  the  waters  of  Goose 
Creek,  near  the  center  of  this  long  stretch  of  land, 
and  was  a  low  one-storied  structure,  built  of  adobe 
or  sun-dried  bricks  around  an  open  central  court, 
and  had  a  red  tile  roof.  The  outside  walls  were 
always  kept  cleanly  whitewashed,  and  the  court 
within  bloomed  with  flowers  and  shrubs  and  was 
watered  by  a  small  fountain,  that  bubbled  up  by 
the  side  of  a  huge  rock  near  its  center.  Within 
were  many  square  rooms,  rudely  but  comfortably 
furnished,  and  nearly  all  had  doors  and  windows 
opening  out  into  the  central  court.  When  Con- 
royal  came  to  California  he  had  had  considerable 
wealth  and  this  had  enabled  him  to  build  and  fur- 
nish his  home  as  few  homes  were  built  and  fur- 
nished in  the  Valley  in  those  pioneer  days ;  and  thus, 
162 


The  Mad  Stallion  163 

here  in  the  midst  of  this  beautiful  valley,  sur- 
rounded by  his  herds  of  cattle  and  horses,  he  lived 
like  one  of  the  patriarchs  of  old. 

The  sun,  the  next  morning  after  that  happy  day 
of  home-coming,  had  not  yet  looked  down  into  the 
little  central  court,  when  Thure  awoke.  For  a  mo- 
ment he  could  not  realize  where  he  was ;  and  then 
all  the  happenings  of  the  day  before  came  to  him 
with  a  rush  and  he  sprang  joyfully  out  of  his  bed. 

He  was  home  and  in  his  own  room  again ! 

The  moment  he  was  dressed  he  hurried  out  into 
the  court,  to  the  fountain  to  bathe  his  face  and 
hands  in  its  cool  waters.  As  he  bent  over  the 
water,  there  was  a  patter  of  feet  behind  him,  and  a 
couple  of  round  arms  were  quickly  slipped  over  his 
shoulders  and  a  couple  of  soft  hands  swiftly  clasped 
together  over  his  eyes. 

"Guess!  Who  is  it?"  cried  a  merry  voice,  while 
the  arms  and  the  hands  gently  pulled  his  head  back- 
ward and  two  soft  lips  pressed  his  lips. 

"lola.  No  one  else  would  be  so  silly,"  and  Thure 
squirmed  just  a  little  mite  disdainfully  from  out 
the  soft  arms — and  yet  there  was  a  happy  light  in 
his  eyes.  "I  knew  it  was  you  the  moment  I  heard 
the  patter  of  your  feet.  Say,  but  it  is  great  to  be 
home  again!"  and  his  eyes  wandered  lovingly 
around  the  familiar  scene. 

"Yes,"  and  lola's  face  softened,  "when  one  has 
such  a  beautiful  home  as  this  is  and  such  a  dear 
father  and  mother  as  we  have.  I  never  really 


164  Fighting  With  Fremont 

knew  how  much  I  loved  dad  and  mama  until  Pa- 
dilla  and  his  wicked  Mexicans  ran  off  with  me, 
and — and  I  thought  I  might  never  see  them  again." 

For  a  moment  the  faces  of  both  children  clouded 
and  the  roses  in  lola's  cheeks  paled.  Then  her  lips 
curved  again  into  delightful  smiles. 

"But  it  is  all  happily  over  with  now ;  and  dad  has 
promised  us  a  gala  day;  and  we  are  to  have  a  pic- 
nic at  the  Laughing  Springs,  with  racing  and 
roping  and  shooting  contests,  with  prizes;  and  a 
big  feast,  with  a  whole  roasted  calf,  the  very  fattest 
in  the  herd;  and  a  dance  in  the  house-sala  at  night 
for  the  big  folks,  with  Pedro's  band  to  play  the 
dear  music;  and  we  are  to  invite  all  our  friends; 
and—" 

"Bully  for  dad !"  broke  in  Thure  enthusiastically. 
"But,  when  are  we  to  have  this  great  gala  day?  It 
must  be  soon,"  and  his  face  sobered;  J'because  no 
one  can  tell  just  what  will  happen  in  California, 
now  that  Fremont  is  back.  Come,  let  us  hunt  up 
dad  and  ask  him  if  we  can't  have  the  gala  the  day 
after  to-morrow.  That  will  give  us  time  to  ride 
round  with  the  invitations  to-day,  and  we  can  put  in 
all  to-morrow  getting  ready.  Come,"  and,  catch- 
ing hold  of  hands,  the  two  children  ran  through  a 
hall  that,  passing  through  the  house,  opened  out 
into  the  court  where  the  bell  pole  stood. 

"There's  dad !"  lola  cried,  the  moment  they  were 
through  the  outer  door.  "Down  there  by  the  big 
horse  corral.  I'll  beat  you  to  him,"  and,  dropping 


The  Mad  Stallion  165 

Thure's  hand,  the  lively  girl  leaped  away  with  the 
speed  and  grace  of  a  frightened  fawn. 

Thure,  with  a  loud  hallo, 'sprang  after  her;  but, 
although  his  legs  were  longer  and  he  was  a  swift 
runner,  he  was  fairly  and  decisively  beaten  by  the 
deer-like  speed  of  Tola,  whose  light  feet  seemed 
hardly  to  touch  the  ground. 

"Hi,  ho!  Where  is  my  little  bird  flying  to  this 
morning?"  and  Conroyal  stretched  out  his  arms, 
and,  with  a  leap,  lola  was  in  them. 

"Into  her  dad's  arms,"  laughed  the  panting  girl. 
"I  said  I  could  beat  Thure  to  you — and  I  did.  O, 
dad,  can  we  have  the  gala  the  day  after  to-morrow  ? 
Thure  says  something  is  going  to  happen  now  that 
Fremont  is  back;  and  we  want  our  good  time  first. 
We  can,  can't  we,  dad?" 

"Yes,  the  sooner  we  have  that  celebration  the  bet- 
ter," and  he  set  lola  down  on  the  ground.  "But 
we  won't  try  to  corral  any  of  the  trouble  that's 
floating  around  in  the  air  until  we  have  to — " 

"Goody!  It's  all  right.  Dad  says  we  can. 
Come  on,  Thure.  Let's  get  our  horses  ready  be- 
fore we  eat,  so  that  we  can  start  right  after  break- 
fast with  the  invitations.  I'll  ride  Whitefoot,"  and 
she  ran  to  the  shed,  where  the  saddles  and  bridles 
hung  on  racks;  and,  disdaining  the  help  of  either 
Thure  or  her  father,  caught  up  her  saddle  and 
bridle  and  hurried  off  toward  a  small  fenced-in  pas- 
ture, where  the  favorite  riding  horses  of  the  family 
were  kept. 


1 66  Fighting  With  Fremont 

Thure  quickly  swung  his  saddle  up  on  his  shoul- 
der, caught  up  his  bridle  and  followed  after  her. 

The  pasture  was  about  half  a  mile  from  the  house, 
on  the  south  side  of  the  hill,  with  Goose  Creek  run- 
ning through  the  far  end  of  it.  When  the  boy  and 
girl  came  near  enough  to  see  distinctly  through  the 
strong  fence  that  surrounded  it,  both  stopped  and 
stared  in  surprise  toward  the  farther  end  of  the 
pasture.  A  man  was  walking  toward  the  small 
herd  of  horses  feeding  along  the  bank  of  Goose 
Creek. 

"Who  can  he  be?"  questioned  lola  in  alarm.  "I 
am  sure  dad  has  sent  none  of  the  men  to  the  pas- 
ture." 

"We  must  find  out,"  Thure  answered ;  "and  what 
he  wants.  Oh— Look!" 

At  that  moment  the  man  stopped,  and,  placing 
his  fingers  to  his  lips,  uttered  a  long  peculiar  whistle. 
Instantly  a  beautiful  snowy-white  horse  lifted  his 
head,  looked  for  a  moment  in  the  direction  of  the 
man,  and  then,  with  a  glad  whinny  of  welcome,  gal- 
loped swiftly  toward  him. 

"Oh,"  laughed  Tola,  "It's  Rex.  Out  to  give 
White  Cloud  his  morning's  kiss." 

"Sure,"  smiled  Thure.  "Just  see  how  tickled 
White  Cloud  acts  to  see  Rex.  I  don't  believe  there 
ever  was  such  another  beautiful  horse  in  the  world ; 
and,  before  he  got  too  old  for  racing,  there  wasn't 
a  horse  in  all  California  that  could  beat  him.  My, 
but  don't  I  wish  I  could  save  the  life  of  an  Indian 


The  Mad  Stallion  167 

chief,  the  way  Rex  saved  the  life  of  White  Otter; 
and  have  him  give  me  a  horse  like  White  Cloud. 
Come  on.  Let's  hurry.  I  like  to  hear  Rex  talk  to 
White  Cloud.  He  acts  just  as  if  he  understood 
every  word  Rex  said  to  him." 

"He  is  the  dearest  horse  that  ever  lived,"  lola 
agreed.  "But,  don't  Rex  think  a  lot  of  him?  I 
don't  believe  he  could  like  a  wife  any  more." 

While  lola  was  speaking  the  two  had  reached  the 
gate,  and,  hurrying  through,  they  hastened  to 
where  Rex  stood,  with  one  arm  around  the  beauti- 
ful neck  of  White  Cloud,  talking  to  him  and  caress- 
ing him  in  much  the  same  way  that  a  man  would  his 
sweetheart. 

"Hello !"  Rex  called,  as  they  came  up.  "What  is 
in  the  wind  now  that  you  are  out  after  your  horses 
so  early?" 

"We  are  going  to  have  a  big  celebration  the  day 
after  to-morrow,  because  dad  is  so  glad  that  you  and 
Thure  and  Ham  are  here  and  that  I  got  away  from 
the  Mexicans;  and  we  are  going  to  ride  around  to 
invite  all  of  our  friends  to  come.  Want  to  come 
with  us  ?"  and  Tola  dropped  her  saddle  down  by  the 
side  of  Rex  and  began  stroking  the  velvety  nose  of 
White  Cloud. 

"All  right,"  Rex  replied.  "Just  wait  until  I've 
had  my  talk  out  with  White  Cloud,  and  then  I'll  get 
my  horse,  and  we'll  get  back  to  the  house,  and  some- 
thing to  eat  down  us,  and  off  we'll  go.  That  cele- 
bration idea  hits  me  about  right.  Say,  old  boy," 


1 68  Fighting  With  Fremont 

and  he  again  turned  to  White  Cloud,  ''if  we  were  as 
young  as  we  once  were,  we'd  show  these  Californi- 
ans  what  a  real  fast  race  was  like,  wouldn't  we, 
now?  Do  you  remember  that  time  in  Sonoma 
when  we  shook  the  dust  into  the  faces  of  all  the 
fastest  horses  in  Upper  California?  Sure  you  do, 
you  bully  old  sport." 

The  horse  nodded  his  head  and  rubbed  his  nose 
affectionately  against  Rex  and  looked,  just  as 
Thure  said,  as  if  he  understood  every  word  his  mas- 
ter said;  and,  possibly,  he  did.  At  any  rate  this 
communion  of  souls  seemed  to  give  pleasure  and 
comfort  to  each  alike. 

"Well,  old  boy,"  at  length  Rex  said,  taking  his 
arm  from  around  the  neck  of  White  Cloud,  "I  must 
be  going.  Good-by,"  and  he  held  out  his  hand,  as 
if  he  were  saying  farewell  to  a  man. 

White  Cloud  at  once  raised  his  right  hoof  and  ex- 
tended it  to  meet  the  grip  of  Rex's  hand. 

"O  dear !  And  I  never  could  get  White  Cloud  to 
shake  hands  with  me,"  complained  lola,  laughingly, 
as  Rex  gripped  the  proffered  hoof  and  shook  it 
solemnly. 

"Shouldn't  wonder  if  he  was  afraid  of  hurting 
your  pretty  little  hand,  with  his  great  hard  hoof," 
declared  Rex  gallantly.  "He  is  the  most  knowing 
horse  I  ever  saw.  Why,  he  knew  me  the  instant  he 
heard  my  whistle,  and  acted  so  pleased  to  see  me. 
Well,  well,  we've  been  through  some  mighty  excit- 
ing times  together,  haven't  we,  old  comrade?  I'd 


The  Mad  Stallion  169 

like  to  get  on  that  splendid  back  of  yours  for  just 
one  more  ride;  and  I  have  half  a  notion — "  He 
paused  abruptly,  and  his  fond  eyes  glanced  critically 
over  the  still  straight  and  muscular  limbs,  the  pow- 
erful chest  and  into  the  eyes  where  the  unconquered 
spirit  still  looked  courageously  forth — "By  the 
eternal  Andrew  Jackson,  I'll  do  it,  old  boy!  You 
look  fit  for  anything.  Come  on.  Get  your  horses. 
I'm  going  to  ride  White  Cloud,"  and  he  started  for 
the  gate,  with  White  Cloud  prancing  and  curveting 
along  by  his  side  like  a  young  colt. 

Thure  and  lola  now  made  haste  to  secure  their 
horses,  which  they  at  once  saddled  and  bridled  and 
mounted  and  galloped  off  after  Rex.  They  over- 
took him  before  he  reached  the  saddle  shed. 

The  day  was  cloudless,  one  of  California's  per- 
fect days ;  and  when,  after  having  eaten  their  break- 
fast, lola  and  Thure  and  Rex  galloped  off  to  in- 
vite their  friends  living  in  the  Valley  to  come  to  the 
celebration,  their  spirits  were  as  bright  and  as  joy- 
ous as  was  the  day.  The  elixir  of  the  wonderful 
California  air  was  in  their  blood.  There  were  a 
dozen  or  so  families  of  American  settlers  living  in 
the  Valley  to  be  invited  and  a  number  of  Califor- 
nians,  as  the  native  inhabitants  of  Spanish  descent 
were  called;  and  then  the  Conroyals  had  a  few 
Spanish  friends  dwelling  in  Sonoma,  whom  they 
wished  to  be  with  them  on  this  joyous  day.  Many 
of  the  settlers  lived  miles  apart,  and  to  make  the 
rounds  they  would  have  to  ride  far  and  hard.  But, 


170  Fighting  With  Fremont 

to  a  California  boy  or  girl  in  those  days  a  horse- 
back ride  of  twenty-five  or  even  fifty  miles  in  a  day 
was  no  hardship,  was  looked  forward  to  with  more 
of  pleasure  than  of  dread ;  and  so  no  thoughts  of  the 
long  ride  before  them  troubled  the  spirits  of  Thure 
and  lola,  as  they  rode  gaily  along  over  the  smooth 
level  of  the  valley,  one  on  either  side  of  Rex. 

The  Sacramento  Valley  at  that  date,  1846,  was 
almost  as  wild  as  when  only  the  Indians  and  the 
wild  beasts  roamed  over  it.  A  few  American  set- 
tlers and  Spanish  rancheros  had  built  homes  here; 
but  their  houses  usually  were  miles  apart  and  the 
intervening  country  was  absolutely  unfettered  by 
the  hands  of  man.  Great  herds  of  cattle,  belong- 
ing to  the  rancheros,  large  droves  of  wild  horses,  be- 
longing to  anybody  who  could  catch  them,  vast  num- 
bers of  elk,  black-tailed  and  other  deer,  antelope  and 
the  various  smaller  animals  wandered  almost  at 
will  over  its  rich  pastures,  while  in  the  flanking 
foot-hills  and  mountains  roamed  the  sullen  grizzly 
bear,  the  prowling  cougar  or  mountain  lion  and  the 
snarling  lynx  and  wildcat.  Wolves,  from  the  big 
gray  timber  wolf  to  the  small  and  cowardly  coyote, 
were  everywhere. 

But  all  this  wild  country  was  commonplace  to  the 
accustomed  eyes  of  our  three  friends ;  and  they  rode 
over  it  without  a  thought  of  its  wildness,  although 
they  were  not  insensible  to  the  wonderful  beauties 
of  its  varied  scenes.  The  deer  and  the  antelope 
were  passed  almost  unnoticed.  A  grizzly,  that 


The  Mad  Stallion  171 

rushed  growling  at  them  from  out  a  clump  of  trees, 
where,  doubtless,  she  had  concealed  a  couple  of 
cubs,  caused  only  a  laugh,  as  they  galloped  swiftly 
away  from  her.  The  herds  of  cattle  ran  bellowing 
from  them,  the  droves  of  wild  horses  snorted  and 
galloped  off  whenever  they  came  near  and  the  skulk- 
ing wolves  scurried  away  through  the  tall  grass  at 
their  approach.  They  had  no  fear  of  all  this  wild 
life,  because  they  knew  that  they  were  safe  from  it 
all,  with  the  swift  legs  of  their  horses  under  them 
— unless  the  unusual  happened. 

When  noon  came  they  stopped  for  dinner  at  the 
home  of  Rad  Randolph,  a  settler  who  had  come  from 
the  States  only  the  fall  before.  He  had  a  girl  and 
a  boy  about  the  ages  of  Tola  and  Thure;  and  the 
children  had  become  great  chums.  They  waited 
here  to  rest  their  horses;  and  then,  with  many 
merry  good-bys  and  calls  on  the  part  of  lola  and 
Thure  to  their  young  friends  to  be  sure  and  come 
over  early  on  the  day  of  the  celebration,  they  con- 
tinued on  their  way. 

There  was  now  but  one  settler  left  to  visit;  but 
his  home  was  ten  miles  from  the  Randolph  house, 
and  the  way  thither  was  through  a  rougher  coun- 
try than  that  already  traversed,  where  they  could 
not  ride  as  fast  as  they  had  been  riding.  By  swing- 
ing to  the  westward  from  his  house,  they  could 
make  the  little  town  of  Sonoma  on  their  way  home- 
ward; and  thus  complete  the  circuit  of  the  settle- 
ment. 


172  Fighting  With  Fremont 

Some  three  miles  from  the  Randolph  home  they 
came  to  where  a  rocky  ridge  separated  two  nar- 
row valleys.  When  they  reached  the  top  of  this 
ridge,  they  saw  in  the  valley  beyond  a  huge  bull  elk, 
standing  near  a  little  thicket  of  willows  and  not 
more  than  three  hundred  yards  away. 

"My,  but  isn't  he  a  whopper !"  Thure  exclaimed 
the  moment  he  caught  sight  of  the  buck,  suddenly 
pulling  up  his  horse.  "And  he's  got  the  biggest 
pair  of  horns  I  ever  saw  on  an  elk's  head !  I  want 
that  head  of  horns,  Rex,  to  hang  over  the  door  of 
my  room.  Let's  see  if  we  can't  get  him." 

"All  right,"  Rex  agreed,  his  own  eyes  beginning 
to  light  up  at  the  thought  of  the  chase.  "He  sure 
is  a  big  one.  Now,"  and  his  eyes  swept  the  little 
valley,  "I  reckon  we  can  get  him,  if  we  charge  right 
from  here.  He'll  have  to  go  straight  up  that  steep 
hill;  and,  before  he  gets  to  the  top  of  it,  we  sure 
can  get  close  enough  to  shoot,  seeing  that  it  is  down 
hill  and  level  ground  the  most  of  the  way  for  us. 
You  won't  mind  our  leaving  you  behind  for  a  little, 
will  you?"  and  Rex  turned  to  Tola  inquiringly. 
"You  can  follow  us.  Now,  just  see  how  White 
Cloud  is  pricking  up  his  ears.  I  am  sure  he  is  as 
anxious  as  either  of  us  to  get  after  that  buck.  It 
will  seem  like  old  times  to  him.  Are  you  good  for 
it,  old  boy?"  and  Rex  glanced  down  at  the  big 
horse  beneath  him  a  bit  anxiously. 

White  Cloud  pricked  up  his  ears  sharply  and 
stamped  impatiently;  as  if  he  were  indignant  to 


The  Mad  Stallion  173 

think  that  his  master  would  question  his  speed  and 
endurance  in  a  chase  like  that,  even  if  he  were  get- 
ting a  little  old. 

"Well,  you  certainly  don't  look  or  act  a  mite 
tired ;  and  'twon't  be  a  long  chase.  I'll  bet  on  you, 
old  boy,  bet  the  last  beaver  skin  in  my  pack !  Now, 
you  don't  care?"  and  Rex  turned  again  to  lola. 

"Not  a  bit.  Why  should  I  ?  I  guess  you  won't 
leave  Whitefoot  so  far  behind,"  and  lola  laughed,  a 
bit  provoked  that  Rex  should  think  she  could  not 
look  out  for  herself  in  the  chase.  "If  I  had  my  rifle 
with  me,  I'd  show  you  what  Whitefoot  could  do." 

"Good !"  laughed  Rex.  "You  are  a  girl  after  my 
own  heart,  Little  Coz.  Now,"  and  he  turned  to 
Thure,  "I'll  ride  to  the  right  and  you  to  the  left. 
Are  you  ready?" 

"Yes." 

"Then,  go,"  and  away  both  horses  sped,  with  lola 
close  behind. 

They  had  covered  nearly  one  hundred  yards  be- 
fore the  elk  seemed  to  wake  up  to  the  fact  that  they 
were  after  him,  then  he  leaped  away  straight  to- 
ward the  steep  side  of  the  hill,  as  Rex  had  said  he 
would. 

lola  slowed  down  her  horse  so  that  she  could  bet- 
ter watch  the  chase. 

"I  hope  Thure  shoots  the  buck,"  she  said,  appar- 
ently to  herself.  "He  hasn't  shot  as  many  as  Rex 
has.  My,  but  don't  White  Cloud  get  over  the 
ground  easy!  See,  he's  leaving  Thure  behind! 


174  Fighting  With  Fremont 

Poor  boy,  he  won't  stand  any  show  at  all,  with  Rex 
on  White  Cloud — Goodness!  What  is  that  com- 
ing?" 

At  that  moment  a  sound,  like  the  muffled  and 
rapid  beatings  of  a  great  bass  drum,  throbbed  in 
her  ears,  and  caused  her  to  pull  up  her  horse  sharply 
and  to  turn  swiftly  in  her  saddle  to  see  what  it  was 
that  was  thundering  over  the  ridge  behind  her.  As 
she  looked,  over  the  brow  of  the  ridge  plunged  a 
horse,  coming  at  breakneck  speed ;  and,  not  a  dozen 
feet  behind  him,  followed  a  great  black  stallion,  the 
foam  flying  from  his  mouth,  his  teeth  bared  and 
his  ears  laid  almost  flat  back  on  his  head;  and  be- 
hind the  stallion  thundered  a  sea  of  tossing  heads 
and  manes  and  pounding  hoofs.  Almost  in  an  in- 
stant the  stallion  overtook  the  fleeing  horse,  and, 
with  a  scream  of  rage,  plunged  furiously  upon  him. 
The  attacked  horse  partly  turned  to  ward  off  this 
ferocious  assault.  The  instant  he  did  so  the  great 
stallion  reared  up  on  his  hind  legs  and  struck  out 
powerfully  with  both  fore  hoofs.  lola,  from  where 
she  sat  horror-stricken  on  her  horse,  heard  the 
crash  of  the  bones  as  one  of  the  great  hoofs  struck 
the  skull  of  the  terrified  horse  and  saw  him  sink 
motionless  to  the  ground.  The  stallion,  with  shrill 
screams  of  insane  fury,  bit  and  kicked  the  insensi- 
ble body  of  his  victim  for  a  moment ;  and  then,  toss- 
ing his  head  high  up  in  the  air,  glared  around — 
and  caught  sight  of  Tola  sitting  on  the  back  of 
Whitefoot,  not  two  hundred  yards  away. 


The  Mad  Stallion  175 

lola  wore  a  red  dress  and  a  small  red  cape-like 
mantilla  was  fastened  about  her  shoulders.  Possi- 
bly it  was  the  sight  of  this  blood-like  color  that 
added  heat  to  the  already  insane  rage  of  the  wild 
stallion;  at  any  rate,  with  shrill  screams,  with  ears 
laid  back  and  teeth  bared  and  head  outstretched, 
the  great  beast  plunged  straight  for  her. 

Up  to  this  moment  lola  had  sat  motionless  on  the 
back  of  her  trembling  horse,  watching  with  fasci- 
nated eyes  the  terrifying  scene.  But,  the  instant 
the  stallion  lifted  his  head  and  caught  sight  of  her, 
she  realized  her  frightful  peril.  She  had  often 
heard  the  vaqueros  and  the  men  who  gathered 
around  her  father's  hospitable  hearth  tell  terrifying 
tales  of  wild  stallions  gone  mad;  and  it  needed  no 
second  glance  to  tell  her  that  what  she  saw  was  one 
of  these  raging  animals,  the  most  dreaded  of  all  the 
terrors  of  the  Valley.  One  horrified  glance  showed 
her  that  Rex  and  Thure  were  still  chasing  the  elk, 
without  a  thought  of  her  peril,  another,  that  the 
stallion  was  coming  straight  for  her,  a  black 
thunderbolt  of  fury;  and  then,  with  shrill  cries  for 
help,  she  lashed  Whitefoot  with  her  whip;  and  the 
most  terrifying  race  of  her  life  was  on. 

The  unusual  had  happened ! 

Whitefoot  was  as  frightened  as  was  his  mistress ; 
and,  for  a  short  distance,  so  great  was  the  stim- 
ulus of  his  fear,  that  the  great  beast  gained  but 
little  on  him.  A  glance  back  showed  lola  this,  and 
hope  rose  in  her  heart ;  but  only  to  sink  the  next  mo- 


176  Fighting  With  Fremont 

ment,  when,  on  looking  ahead  she  saw  that  White- 
foot  had  turned  and  was  not  running  directly  to- 
ward Rex  and  Thure,  but  far  to  one  side  of  them  to- 
ward the  distant  end  of  the  valley.  In  vain  she 
tugged  and  strained  at  the  bridle  rein.  Whitefoot, 
wild  with  fright,  was  utterly  beyond  her  control. 
She  could  not  make  him  swerve  an  inch  in  the  de- 
sired direction.  She  glanced  back.  Already  the 
black  stallion  was  nearer ;  and  behind  him  still  thun- 
dered the  half-crazed  drove  of  his  comrades,  their 
heads  and  manes  tossing  wildly  in  the  air. 

Her  only  hope  lay  in  a  shot  from  the  rifle  of  Rex 
or  Thure;  and  Whitefoot  was  bearing  her  farther 
away  from  them  each  moment ! 

Again  she  turned  her  face  in  their  direction,  and, 
putting  both  hands  to  her  mouth,  screamed  as 
loudly  as  she  could  force  the  sound  out  of  her 
mouth. 

Thure,  in  the  excitement  of  the  chase,  heard  her, 
not;  but  Rex  caught  the  sound  of  her  voice  and 
turned  his  head.  One  glance,  and  the  blood  left 
his  face,  and  he  jerked  White  Cloud  around,  and 
plunged  the  spurs  into  his  flanks,  and,  with  set  lips 
and  eyes  fixed  on  that  fearful  race,  urged  him  to 
the  chase  of  the  black  stallion. 

If  he  could  not  get  near  enough  to  the  black 
stallion  in  time  to  shoot  before  the  great  beast 
overtook  lola — He  did  not  finish  the  thought,  but 
shuddered  and  gripped  his  rifle  tightly  and,  leaning 
forward,  implored  White  Cloud  to  do  his  best. 


The  Mad  Stallion  177 

"Old  boy,  comrade!"  he  called.  "Faster,  for  the 
love  of  heaven,  faster !  It  is  lola,  the  life  of  lola 
that  is  at  stake!  Good  boy!  Splendid  fellow! 
Just  show  that  great  black  brute  what  a  real  horse 
can  do!  Splendid!  Splendid!"  he  encouraged. 
"But,  yet  a  little  faster,  a  little  faster,  good  com- 
rade! It  is  the  last,  the  very  last  race  I  will  ask 
of  you.  If  you  win,  nothing,  nothing  will  be  too 
good  for  you.  Faster !  Faster !" 

And  magnificently  the  splendid  old  horse  re- 
sponded. Gone  were  all  the  infirmities  of  age. 
Again  the  mighty  muscles  answered  perfectly  to 
every  call  of  that  unconquerable  spirit,  as  with 
neck  outstretched,  he  seemed  to  skim,  like  a  great 
white  bird,  rather  than  run,  over  the  level  of  the 
valley.  And  he  had  need ;  for  the  great  black  stal- 
lion was  hardly  less  powerful  than  was  he. 

At  the  start  nearly  three  hundred  yards  sep- 
arated White  Cloud  from  the  mad  black  stallion; 
but,  from  the  first  he  gained,  slowly,  but  still  he 
gained.  Rex  noted  this  gain  and  the  gain  of  the 
mad  stallion  on  Whitefoot  with  anxious  eyes;  and 
shuddered,  as  he  saw  plainly  that  it  would  be  im- 
possible for  him  to  overtake  the  great  beast  in  time 
to  save  lola,  even  if  the  wonderful  speed  of  White 
Cloud  should  hold  out,  unless  something  happened 
to  delay  the  mad  brute. 

He  yelled;  but  the  horse  paid  not  the  slightest 
attention  to  his  yelling.  He  tried  to  get  more 
speed  out  of  White  Cloud;  but  the  noble  animal 


178  Fighting  With  Fremont 

was  already  doing  his  best;  and,  in  an  agony  of 
horror,  he  was  compelled  to  watch  the  black  stal- 
lion drawing  closer  and  closer  to  lola,  and  still 
remained  helpless  to  rescue.  Now  the  brute  was 
not  fifty  yards — thirty — twenty — behind  the  fleeing 
girl  and  horse ;  and  still  at  least  two  hundred  yards 
separated  Rex  from  the  beast — too  far  to  chance 
a  shot,  when  all  depended  on  that  one  shot.  (You 
will  remember  that  this  was  before  the  day  of  the 
repeating  rapid-fire  rifle,  and  understand  that  Rex 
would  have  no  time  to  reload,  if  he  should  miss 
the  first  shot.) 

Suddenly  the  heart  of  Rex  gave  a  great  bound 
of  hope;  for  he  saw  lola  unloosen  the  red  mantilla 
from  around  her  neck,  turn  in  her  saddle  and  hurl 
the  cloth  straight  toward  the  oncoming  stallion. 
The  wind  caught  the  mantilla,  whirled  it  upward, 
and  then  cast  it  suddenly  downward  directly  over 
the  head  of  the  mad  brute. 

The  stallion  reared  and  plunged  and  shook  his 
great  head,  insane  with  rage  that  that  red  clinging 
thing  should  come  between  him  and  his  prey.  In 
an  instant  he  had  flung  the  mantilla  to  the  ground, 
in  another  instant,  he  had  torn  and  had  trampled 
it  deep  in  the  dirt,  and,  screaming  shrilly,  was 
plunging  more  furiously  than  ever  after  Tola. 

But,  brief  as  was  the  respite,  Whitefoot  had 
gained  many  valuable  yards ;  and  White  Cloud  was 
now  within  fifty  yards  of  the  raging  brute. 


The  Mad  Stallion  179 

Still  Rex  dared  not  shoot.  The  chance  of  miss- 
ing was  too  great.  If  he  could  only 'get  abreast 
of  the  great  black  stallion,  then  he  could  be  sure 
of  his  aim,  sure  that  that  one  ball  in  his  rifle  would 
do  its  work.  He  bent  close  over  the  neck  of  White 
Cloud.  He  implored — threatened.  He  stroked 
the  white  glossy  neck,  now  wet  with  the  sweat  of 
tremendous  exertion,  and  begged  the  noble  animal 
for  a  little  more  speed.  » 

"You  are  doing  splendidly,  old  boy;  but  just  a 
little  faster,  comrade,  great-heart!"  he  urged. 
"Just  a  little  faster;  and,  thank  God,  we  will  yet 
be  in  time!" 

And  again  White  Cloud  responded.  His  whole 
body  seemed  to  lengthen,  to  crouch  closer  to  the 
ground  with  each  mighty  leap,  and  a  tense  quiver, 
like  the  tightening  of  every  muscle  and  tendon 
in  his  body,  swept  through  his  frame.  His  loved 
master  had  called  for  his  uttermost;  and  he  was 
giving  him  his  all. 

Rex  now  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  black  stallion 
and  on  lola,  with  his  rifle  held  ready  to  shoot  on 
the  instant — if  he  must.  He  saw  that  the  black 
brute  was  now  gaining  faster  than  ever  on  White- 
foot;  but  he  also  saw  that  every  tremendous  leap 
of  White  Cloud  was  bringing  him  closer  to  the 
mad  horse.  Now  the  bared  teeth  of  the  stallion 
was  not  six  feet  behind  the  streaming  hairs  of  the 
tail  of  Whitefoot;  but  now  White  Cloud,  gallant 


180  Fighting  With  Fremont 

White  Cloud,  was  almost  abreast  of  the  crazed 
brute  and  not  ten  yards  from  the  great  heaving 
black  side. 

The  time  to  shoot  had  come! 

Rex  was  not  a  praying  man;  but,  as  he  threw 
his  rifle  to  his  shoulder,  a  silent  prayer  went  up- 
ward with  it  to  the  great  God  of  all  to  make  his 
aim  sure — There  would  be  no  time  for  a  second 
shot.  Then  his  finger  pressed  the  trigger. 

For  an  instant  the  great  black  stallion  plunged 
on,  as  if  untouched;  and  then  his  legs  seemed  to 
crumple  all  up  underneath  him,  and,  like  a  dead 
rock,  his  huge  body  went  to  the  ground,  plowing 
through  the  tough  sod  with  the  force  of  the  im- 
pact. 

Rex  uttered  a  wild  yell  of  triumph;  and,  a  min- 
ute later,  White  Cloud  had  placed  him  close  along- 
side of  Whitefoot;  and,  stretching  out  his  arms, 
he  lifted  lola  from  her  saddle  to  his  and  allowed 
the  fear-crazed  Whitefoot  to  speed  on  unchecked. 

The  moment  White  Cloud  stopped  both  leaped 
off  his  back;  and  the  arms  of  both  went  around 
his  neck,  lola  sobbing  and  laughing  and  calling 
him  all  the  endearing  names  she  could  think  of, 
and  Rex  just  holding  his  head  close  in  his  arms 
and  softly  stroking  his  nose  and  telling  him  what 
a  great  old  horse  he  was  and  how  he  had  won 
the  everlasting  gratitude  of  his  master  and  of  all 
those  dear  to  him.  White  Cloud  stood  with  his 
head  hanging  low,  his  great  chest  heaving  and 


The  Mad  Stallion  181 

falling  and  his  strong  old  limbs  all  of  a-tremble; 
but,  if  ever  the  eyes  of  a  horse  showed  the  look 
of  a  victor,  then  that  look  was  in  the  eyes  of  White 
Cloud,  as  he  turned  them  to  the  face  of  his  master. 
The  look  seemed  to  say:  "You  thought  I  was  too 
old  to  be  of  much  account,  didn't  you  ?  But  I  have 
showed  you  that  it  is  the  spirit  that  conquers." 

Rex,  as  soon  as  he  had  told  White  Cloud  what 
a  great  old  horse  he  thought  him,  at  once  gave  his 
attention  to  his  condition.  With  bunches  of  dry 
grass  he  and  lola  carefully  rubbed  the  sweat  and 
foam  from  his  body;  and,  not  until  this  task  was 
completed,  did  either  of  them  turn  their  eyes  to- 
ward the  black  stallion,  save  only  to  see  that  no 
danger  threatened  from  that  direction. 

The  body  of  the  black  stallion  lay  where  it  had 
fallen,  something  like  a  hundred  yards  from  where 
they  stood;  and  around  it  circled  and  snorted  and 
stamped  the  drove  of  wild  horses,  a  hundred  or 
more  in  number,  as  if  they  could  not  understand 
why  their  late  powerful  king  lay  so  quiet  and  help- 
less. But,  on  the  approach  of  Rex  and  lola,  with 
White  Cloud  walking  between  them,  they  all  gal- 
loped furiously  off  under  the  leadership  of  a  big 
iron-gray  stallion. 

The  king  is  dead.     Long  live  the  king ! 

Rex  and  lola  stopped  at  the  body  of  the  wild 
stallion,  and  looked  down  on  the  dead  monarch 
with  feelings  of  thankfulness,  not  unmixed  with 
pity.  He  had  been  a  splendid  animal,  the  most 


182  Fighting  With  Fremont 

magificently  built  and  muscled  wild  horse  that 
Rex  had  ever  seen;  and  it  seemed  too  bad  that  his 
glorious  life  of  wild  freedom  should  come  to  such 
an  untimely  end.  On  his  broad  chest  was  a  fester- 
ing wound,  doubtless  made  by  the  sharp  teeth  of  a 
wolf  that  he  had  slain  while  protecting  his  drove, 
and,  probably,  the  cause  of  his  madness. 

As  they  stood  there  contemplating  all  that  was 
left  of  the  gallant  black  stallion,  Thure  came  gallop- 
ing up,  the  head  of  the  elk  held  on  the  saddle  in 
front  of  him  showing  that  he  had  been  successful 
in  his  chase.  He  was  very  much  excited. 

"What  has  happened?"  he  cried,  as  he  sprang 
from  his  saddle  and  stared  in  astonishment  down 
on  the  carcass  of  the  great  black  stallion. 

In  as  few  words  as  possible  Rex  told  him.  Then 
Thure,  too,  had  to  throw  his  arms  around  the  neck 
of  White  Cloud,  and  tell  him  what  a  gallant  old 
horse  he  was. 

"Now,"  Rex  said,  when  Thure  had  caressed  and 
praised  White  Cloud,  "you  had  better  mount  your 
horse  and  go  after  Whitefoot.  We'll  wait  for  you 
over  there  in  the  shade  of  that  tree,"  and  he  pointed 
to  a  wide-spreading  oak  that  grew  in  solitary 
stateliness  a  short  distance  away. 

Thure,  leaving  the  elk  head  by  the  side  of  the 
dead  stallion,  sprang  on  the  back  of  his  horse  and 
started  after  Whitefoot.  He  found  the  horse,  after 
following  his  trail  for  a  couple  of  miles,  quietly 
feeding  in  a  little  valley  between  two  small  hills, 


The  Mad  Stallion  183 

his  panic  over ;  and,  catching  him  without  difficulty, 
hurried  back  to  where  he  had  left  Rex  and  lola. 

In  the  meantime  Rex  had  been  considering  what 
would  be  best  for  them  to  do  now.  He  did  not  feel 
like  riding  White  Cloud  farther  that  day.  The 
noble  animal  had,  indeed,  done  his  utmost,  and 
was  now  able  to  do  little  more  than  walk. 

"I  think  we  had  best  return  at  once  to  the  Ran- 
dolph rancho,"  Rex  said,  when  Thure  appeared 
with  Whitefoot.  "I  am  sure  that  Randolph  will 
gladly  see  that  your  invitation  is  carried  to  the 
Ogden  rancho  and  to  your  friends  in  Sonoma ;  and 
I  can  get  a  fresh  horse  there,  so  that  I  will  not  be 
obliged  to  ride  White  Cloud  back  home,  but  can 
lead  him.  I  do  not  think  that  he  ought  to  be  ridden 
another  step  to-day.  If  I  can  get  him  safely  back 
to  Uncle  Noel's,  I'll  be  more  than  satisfied." 

Accordingly  they  at  once  started  back  for  the 
Randolph  rancho,  Rex  walking  by  the  side  of 
White  Cloud  and  Thure  and  lola  mounted  on  their 
horses. 

Mr.  Randolph  willingly  promised  to  convey  their 
invitation  to  the  Ogden  family  and  also  to  their 
friends  in  Sonoma,  and  joined  in  with  the  children 
in  urging  them  to  stay  with  them  until  the  next 
morning,  in  order  to  give  White  Cloud  a  chance 
to  recover  his  strength.  But  Rex,  after  carefully 
examining  White  Cloud,  decided  that  it  would  be 
best  to  get  the  horse  home  as  soon  as  possible. 
Accordingly,  after  resting  here  for  an  hour,  during 


184  Fighting  With  Fremont 

which  time  you  may  be  sure  everyone  on  the  rancho 
had  to  pay  his  admiring  court  to  White  Cloud,  our 
three  friends  started  homeward,  Rex  riding  on  one 
of  the  Randolph  horses  and  leading  White  Cloud. 

They  reached  the  home  rancho  a  little  after  sun- 
down ;  and,  when  the  story  of  their  adventure  with 
the  black  stallion  had  been  told,  White  Cloud  was 
received  like  a  conquering  king;  for  there  was  not 
a  man  on  the  rancho  who  did  not  know  the  great 
wild  black  stallion.  Indeed,  for  the  last  two  years 
every  vaquero  in  the  Valley  had  been  trying  to 
rope  this  magnificent  animal;  but,  so  wonderful 
was  his  speed  and  so  great  his  endurance,  that  no 
horseman  had  ever  been  able  to  get  within  roping 
distance  of  him;  and  the  feat  of  White  Cloud, 
considering  his  age  and  the  fact  that  he  bore  a 
large  man  on  his  back,  in  overtaking  the  wild  stal- 
lion, appeared  to  them  as  the  most  wonderful  ex- 
ploit ever  performed  by  a  California  horse,  indeed, 
as  something  almost  miraculous. 

A  shed  near  the  house  was  quickly  prepared; 
and  here,  warmly  and  softly  bedded  with  straw 
and  his  body  protected  from  the  chill  of  the  night 
air  with  blankets,  White  Cloud  held  court  until  a 
late  hour. 

"Everything  that  love  and  gratitude  can  do  for 
a  horse  to  make  his  last  years  comfortable  shall 
be  done  for  White  Cloud,"  Conroyal  declared  fer- 
vently, when  Tola  herself,  nestled  snugly  in  his 
arms,  had  told  him  how  White  Cloud  had  saved 


The  Mad  Stallion  185 

her  life.  "He  has  done  more  for  me  and  mine 
than  years  of  kindness  can  repay,"  and  there  were 
tears  of  thankfulness  in  his  eyes  as  he  bent  his 
head  close  over  his  little  girl  and  pressed  her  ten- 
derly to  his  bosom. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

AN.   INTERRUPTED   GALA 

THE  following  day  was  a  busy  one  for  all  at  the 
Conroyal  rancho;  for  was  not  the  morrow  the 
great  day  of  the  celebration!  There  were  certain 
dainties  to  be  cooked  and  the  house  to  be  prepared ; 
and  this  kept  the  women  folks  busy.  There  were 
the  carretas  and  the  horses  to  be  made  ready  to 
convey  the  picnickers  and  their  impedimenta  to 
the  picnic  grounds  at  the  Laughing  Springs;  and 
there  were  the  races  and  the  contests  and  the  va- 
rious games  to  be  planned  and  arranged  for  and 
the  roping  and  the  killing  of  the  fat  cattle  that 
were  to  be  eaten;  and  this  kept  all  the  others  in 
a  constant  turmoil  of  work  and  excitement.  In- 
deed, for  a  time,  the  confusion,  the  rushing  hither 
and  thither  of  men,  women  and  children,  the  shout- 
ing, the  laughing  and  the  merry  jesting,  was  so 
great  that  it  did  not  seem  to  be  possible  to  get  or- 
derly results  out  of  so  much  disorder;  but,  finally, 
things  began  to  adjust  themselves  properly;  and, 
when  night  came,  everything  was  ready  for  the 
great  day. 

During  this  time  you  may  be  certain  that  Thure 
and  lola  were  pretty  much  in  evidence  everywhere. 
186 


An  Interrupted  Gaia  187 

Indeed,  one  would  have  thought  from  the  way  they 
rushed  about,  now  in  the  house,  now  out  again, 
now  here,  now  there,  advising,  admonishing,  sug- 
gesting, sometimes  even  helping,  that  the  responsi- 
bility of  the  success  of  the  whole  affair  rested  solely 
on  their  two  pairs  of  shoulders ;  and,  when  at  last 
all  that  could  be  done  had  been  done  and  it  was 
time  to  seek  their  beds,  so  that  they  could  be  up 
early  on  the  great  day,  it  was  a  very  tired  boy  and 
girl  who  bade  each  other  good  night. 

"I'll  be  first  at  the  fountain,"  lola  called,  as  she 
vanished  through  the  door  of  her  room. 

"You  can  throw  a  cup  of  cold  water  in  my  face, 
if  you  can  catch  me  asleep  in  the  morning,"  Thure 
laughed  back.  "And,  if  I  don't  have  my  face  and 
hands  all  washed  before  you  show  up,  you  can  duck 
my  head  in  the  fountain,"  he  continued  vauntingly. 

"Then  you'll  get  the  ducking  all  right/'  and  the 
door  closed  behind  lola. 

Thure  had  a  curious  dream  that  night.  He 
dreamed  that  he  was  standing  alone  on  the  top  of 
the  Old  Sow's  Back;  and  that  the  valleys  on  both 
sides  of  him  were  filled  with  an  ever  increasing 
throng  of  wild  horses  and  elk;  and  that  the  wild 
horses  were  charging  madly  back  and  forth,  back 
and  forth,  up  both  sides  of  the  ridge  toward  him; 
and  that  each  charge  brought  them  nearer  to  where 
he  stood;  and  that  the  elk  sat  astride  on  the  backs 
of  the  wild  horses,  furiously  waving  their  antlers 
and  yelling  in  Mexican  at  him;  and  that  the  air 


1 88  Fighting  With  Fremont 

above  him  was  filled  with  red  and  blue  and  yellow 
eagles ;  and  that  all  the  eagles  were  swooping  down 
upon  him,  screaming  shrilly  and  clicking  their 
hooked  bills  together;  and  that,  just  as  the  wild 
horses,  with  the  mad  elk  on  their  backs,  were 
about  to  rush  over  him,  and  just  as  the  screaming 
eagles,  with  their  bills  clicking,  were  about  to 
swoop  down  upon  him,  there  came  a  sudden  great 
clap  of  thunder;  and,  at  the  sound,  the  charging 
wild  horses  changed  into  two  great  rivers  of  foam- 
ing water  that  rolled  tumultuously  over  him,  and 
the  red  and  blue  and  yellow  eagles  became  a  huge 
pink  faucet  that  squirted  a  flood  of  ice-cold  water 
straight  down  into  his  upturned  face — and  then 
Thure  awoke,  spluttering  and  yelling,  to  find  lola 
standing  by  his  bedside,  deliberately  pouring  the 
contents  of  a  huge  dipper  filled  with  water  all  over 
his  head  and  neck. 

"Wow!  You  villain!"  and  Thure  jerked  the  bed 
clothes  up  over  his  face  the  moment  his  dazed  eyes 
caught  sight  of  the  laughing  face  of  lola,  while 
the  girl  dropped  the  dipper  and  ran  screaming  with 
laughter  out  of  the  room. 

"Hurry  up  and  get  dressed.  You  know  you  owe 
me  a  ducking  in  the  fountain  yet !"  she  called  back, 
as  she  pulled  the  door  shut  behind  her. 

Thure  was  out  of  bed  almost  before  the  door 
closed  behind  Tola;  and  was  greatly  chagrined  to 
find  the  first  rays  of  the  morning's  sun  peeking  over 
the  tops  of  the  eastern  mountains  into  his  room. 


An  Interrupted  Gala  189 

And  he  had  intended  to  be  up  an  hour  before  sun- 
rise! 

"Well,  you  sleepyhead!"  he  soliloquized  disgust- 
edly as  he  hurriedly  slipped  on  his  clothes.  "You 
deserve  the  dipper  of  water  in  your  face,  and  the 
ducking,  too.  But,  I'll  get  even  with  lola,  some- 
time. Just  see  if  I  don't/'  and  he  hastened  from 
the  room  out  into  the  court,  where  the  cool  waters 
of  the  fountain  furnished  a  wash-basin. 

lola  was  already  there,  hiding  behind  a  large 
rose-bush,  waiting  to  give  Thure  his  ducking;  and, 
the  moment  the  boy  bent  over  the  basin  of  the  foun- 
tain, she  jumped  to  her  feet  and  rushed  for  him. 

"O!  All  right!  Duck  away!  I  deserve  it,  to 
let  a  girl  beat  me!"  and  Thure  submitted  meekly 
to  the  two  plump  hands  that  instantly  caught  him 
by  the  ears. 

"Once,  to  wash  the  sleepyseeds  out  of  your  eyes," 
and  vigorously  the  hands  that  held  the  ears  shoved 
the  head  down  under  the  water  and  held  it  there 
for  a  moment.  "Twice,  because  you  let  a  girl  beat 
you,"  and  down  again  went  the  head  under  the 
water,  to  come  up  with  face  very  red  and  mouth 
spouting  water.  "Three  times,  because  you  seem 
to  think  it  a  disgrace  to  be  beaten  by  a  girl,"  and 
splash  under  the  water  once  more  the  head  disap- 
peared, just  as  the  mouth  opened  to  utter  a  protest, 
with  the  result  that  the  protest  ended  in  a  mouthful 
of  water.  "Four  times,  to — " 

"H — ol — 1 — Id  up !"  and,  with  a  quick  twist  and 


190  Fighting  With  Fremont 

a  squirm,  Thure  wrenched  his  ears  free  from  the 
two  hands,  flung  his  left  arm  around  Tola  and 
placed  his  right  hand  on  the  back  of  her  neck. 
"And  the  fourth  time,"  he  cried,  "is  just  to  show 
Miss  Smarty  how  cool  and  fine  the  water  feels," 
and  the  hand  on  the  back  of  Tola's  neck  suddenly 
plunged  her  head  downward,  until  nose  and  mouth 
and  eyes  and  hair  were  under  the  water  of  the 
fountain. 

For  a  minute  or  two  there  was  a  lively  struggle 
and  a  great  splashing  of  water,  punctuated  by  little 
shrieks  and  laughing  screams;  and  then  the  two 
stood  facing  each  other,  the  water  dripping  from 
their  face  and  hair. 

"Well,  I  ducked  you  three  times !"  lola  declared, 
shaking  her  head  until  the  water  flew  from  her 
hair  in  drops. 

"You  certainly  did,"  laughed  Thure,  wiping  his 
eyes  with  both  fists.  "Now,  let's  call  it  quits;  and 
hurry  and  get  our  breakfast,  or  the  Randolphs  will 
be  here  before  we  get  through.  You  know  Bud 
threatened  to  pull  us  both  out  of  bed." 

"And  you  can  thank  me  that  he  did  not  get  the 
chance  to  pull  you  out,"  and  lola's  face  dimpled. 
"My,  but  you  did  look  scared,  when  that  water  hit 
your  face!"  and  she  broke  into  a  laugh  and  ran 
into  the  house,  where  she  found  breakfast  already 
served  and  awaiting  their  coming. 

"Hello!  Hello,  inside!  Wake  up!  Tumble 
out  of  your  beds,  you  sleepyheads !"  and  the  pound- 


An  Interrupted  Gala  191 

ing  of  horses'  hoofs,  suddenly  brought  to  a  halt, 
sounded  outside  the  door,  just  as  lola  and  Thure 
were  about  to  eat  the  last  mouthfuls  of  their  break- 
fast. 

"O!  It's  Bud  and  Ruth  Randolph!"  and  lola 
dropped  knife  and  fork  and  was  out  of  the  door,  fol- 
lowed by  Thure,  in  time  to  have  her  arms  around 
a  plump,  blue-eyed  girl  of  about  her  own  age  the 
moment  she  jumped  from  her  saddle  to  the  ground, 
while  Thure  grabbed  the  hand  of  a  freckle-faced,, 
tow-headed  boy  of  about  his  own  size. 

The  Randolph  boy  and  girl  had  ridden  ahead  of 
their  father  and  mother,  who  now  came  trotting 
up,  followed  by  a  number  of  their  vaqueros,  each 
with  his  senorita  seated  on  the  saddle  in  front  of 
him,  his  broad-brimmed  sombrero  on  her  head,  his 
own  head  bare  or  covered  with  a  bright-colored 
handkerchief.  There  was  much  merry  laughter 
while  the  gallant  cavaliers  and  the  fair  senoritas 
were  dismounting  and  welcomed  to  the  Conroyal 
rancho. 

A  few  minutes  later  another  gay  party  arrived, 
with  more  children  and  more  cavaliers  and  sen- 
oritas, dressed  in  their  picturesque  Mexican  cos- 
tumes; and  thus  party  after  party  galloped  up  to 
the  court  in  front  of  the  Conroyal  house,  dis- 
mounted and  joined  the  merry  crowd  that  buzzed 
happily  in  and  about  the  house.  All  came  on 
horseback;  for  this  was  before  the  day  of  the  easy- 
riding  carriage  in  California,  when  the  only 


192  Fighting  With  Fremont 

vehicle  in  use  was  the  rude  carreta,  a  much  less 
speedy  and  comfortable  method  of  getting  over 
the  ground  than  the  back  of  a  horse. 

By  nine  o'clock  all  the  expected  guests  had  ar- 
rived; and  now  preparations  were  made  to  start 
for  the  picnic-grounds  at  the  Laughing  Springs 
some  five  miles  distant.  Again  the  cavaliers 
mounted  and  again  the  fair  damsels  were  swung  up 
on  the  saddles  in  front  of  them;  and,  with  much 
merry  shoutings  back  and  forth,  many  of  the  older 
guests  remaining  at  the  house,  the  merry  cavalcade 
set  out  for  the  Laughing  Springs. 

Carretas  laden  with  chicken,  stuffed  turkeys, 
tamales,  enchiladas  and  other  California  dainties, 
and  the  dishes  and  the  cooking  utensils,  had  been 
sent  on  ahead  an  hour  or  more  before  the  start  was 
made,  so  that  there  was  no  baggage  to  trouble  the 
going  of  our  merry  picnickers.  They  sang  songs, 
one  of  them  strumming  on  a  guitar;  they  laughed 
and  cracked  jokes  as  they  galloped  along  over  the 
level  of  the  valley ;  and,  when  the  Laughing  Springs 
were  reached,  they  quickly  unsaddled,  picketed 
their  horses  and  the  merrymaking  began. 

The  Laughing  Springs  bubbled  up  through  the 
sand  at  the  base  of  a  tall  pinnacle  of  rocks,  with  a 
sound  like  the  low  laughter  of  many  young  maids, 
and  then  ran  singing  softly  adown  the  valley. 
Along  its  banks  grew  many  stately  trees;  and  it 
was  here,  underneath  their  cool  shade,  that  our 


An  Interrupted  Gala  193 

picnickers  gathered  for  the  dance,  the  game  or  the 
merry  quibblings  dear  to  the  hearts  of  youth;  and 
soon  the  violins  were  playing,  the  guitars  strum- 
ming and  the  patter-patter  of  swiftly  moving  feet 
on  the  soft  carpet  of  the  sod  sounding  its  pleasant 
invitation  to  the  ears  of  all. 

During  all  this  time  Thure  and  lola  had  not  seen 
an  idle  moment.  They  had  been  on  the  move  every 
instant,  greeting  the  newcomers  and  receiving  their 
congratulations,  lola  for  her  escape  from  Padilla, 
Thure  for  his  safe  return  from  the  journey  in 
the  wilderness,  and  hurrying  about  among  the 
guests  to  see  that  everything  was  going  all  right 
on  this  their  own  special  gala  day.  But  now,  with 
the  dance  going  underneath  the  trees  for  the  older 
youths  and  maids,  the  servants  properly  at  work 
preparing  the  feast  and  even  the  "fattest  calf  in 
the  herd'*  killed  and  spitted  whole  and  roasting 
slowly  over  a  great  bed  of  glowing  coals,  they  felt 
that  they  could  give  themselves  up  to  having  a 
good  time  with  the  boys  and  girls  of  their  own  age. 
Accordingly  they  gathered,  a  couple  of  dozen  of 
them,  in  a  little  circular  opening  in  the  woods  a 
few  rods  away  from  the  dancers. 

"Now,  what  shall  the  first  game  be  ?"  lola  cried, 
her  eyes  sparkling. 

"Blind  man's  buff!"  shouted  Ruth  Randolph. 
"And  the  boys  can  only  catch  the  girls  and  the 
girls  can  only  catch  the  boys.  Who'll  be  it?" 


194  Fighting  With  Fremont 

"lola !"  cried  a  dozen  voices.  "The  picnic  is  for 
her  and  she  must  be  it.  Tie  your  handkerchief 
over  her  eyes,  Vallejo !" 

lola,  with  a  flushed  face  and  black  eyes  dancing 
and  a  merry  "all  right,"  submitted  to  the  fastening 
of  the  handkerchief  over  her  eyes  by  the  tall  young 
Spaniard,  Miguel  Vallejo,  a  near  relative  of  Gen- 
eral Vallejo  of  Sonoma;  and  the  lively  game  be- 
gan; and  soon  the  fun  of  the  sport  was  bringing 
forth  shrieks  of  laughter  from  all  its  merry  partici- 
pants. And,  not  until  the  majordomo  of  the  cook- 
ing forces  announced,  with  a  grand  flourish  of 
both  arms,  that  the  feast  was  ready  for  the  eating, 
did  the  merriment  of  the  dancing  and  the  playing 
of  the  games  cease.  Then  all  gathered  around 
the  heavy  mats  which  the  careful  servants  had 
spread  out  on  the  ground  and  covered  with  white 
cloths  whereon  the  feast  was  spread,  the  youths 
gallantly  laying  down  cloaks  or  blankets  for  the 
maids  to  sit  on;  and,  with  a  lively  clattering  of 
tongues,  the  eating  began. 

If  there  were  time,  it  would  be  interesting  to 
tell  of  all  the  merrymaking,  the  bright  witticisms, 
the  laughable  haps  and  the  mishaps  and  the  funny 
tricks  of  this  delightful  picnic  feast  underneath  the 
trees  in  the  beautiful  Sacramento  Valley,  when 
civilization  was  young  in  California  and  the  hearts 
of  all  throbbed  with  the  wild  free  joyous  life  of 
the  untrammeled  nature  around  them.  And  yet 
there  is  little  need  of  my  giving  such  a  description ; 


An  Interrupted  Gala  195 

for,  I  fancy,  the  heart  of  every  boy  or  girl  reader 
has  already  pictured,  even  more  vividly  than  my 
words  could,  what  such  a  feast  in  the  midst  of  such 
surroundings  must  have  been,  and  wished  that  he 
or  she  might  have  been  there. 

After  the  feasting  was  over,  an  hour  or  so  was 
spent  resting  quietly  in  the  cool  shade  of  the  trees, 
while  the  older  ones  gossiped  and  the  younger  ones 
told  merry  tales  and  played  funny  pranks  on  one 
another. 

By  common  courtesy  no  one  spoke  of  the  trouble 
brewing  between  the  Americans  and  the  Mexicans. 
There  were  nearly  as  many  native  Californians 
present  as  there  were  Americans,  and  all  were  good 
friends,  and  no  one  cared  to  introduce  a  subject 
that  might  cause  discord  or  throw  a  chill  of  appre- 
hension over  the  joys  of  the  gathering.  Then  it 
was  the  Californian  nature  never  to  borrow  trouble. 
Gay,  volatile,  thoughtless  of  the  past,  careless  of 
the  future,  he  lived  only  for  the  present;  and  the 
present  just  then  seemed  very  good  to  him,  so  why 
trouble  himself  or  his  neighbors  about  the  possibil- 
ities of  the  to-morrow?  But  the  Americans  did 
not  look  thus  upon  life;  and,  underneath  all  their 
merriment,  a  sensitive  soul  might  have  felt  the  chill 
of  the  apprehension  that  troubled  their  spirits. 
Fremont  was  back.  The  Mexicans  were  threaten- 
ing to  raid  the  Sacramento  Valley  and  drive  all  the 
Americans  out  of  the  country.  Their  own  homes, 
their  own  lives  were  in  danger;  and,  while  they 


196  Fighting  With  Fremont 

could  put  on  the  outward  forms  of  merriment,  they 
could  not  forget  these  threatening  dangers.  Still, 
since  none  of  them  gave  voice  to  their  troublesome 
thoughts  and  all  did  their  best  to  help  joy  reign 
unconfined,  there  was  nothing  to  chill  the  warmth 
of  the  gala  day's  festivities. 

What  was  now  left  of  the  afternoon,  the  rest 
hour  having  past,  was  to  be  devoted  to  the  horse- 
racing  and  the  roping  and  the  shooting  contests; 
and  soon  the  young  men  and  boys  began  to  gather 
in  groups,  while  their  tongues  buzzed  in  praise  of 
the  speed  of  this  or  that  horse  or  the  skill  of  a 
favorite  vaquero.  Presently,  into  the  midst  of  this 
increasing  buzzing  of  excited  tongues,  rode  Rex 
Holt  and  Dill  Conroyal,  who  were  to  have  charge 
of  the  afternoon's  races  and  contests  and  who  had 
remained  at  the  house  until  after  the  noonday 
meal.  Their  advent  was  welcomed  with  a  glad 
shout;  and  preparations  for  the  various  races  and 
contests  were  at  once  begun. 

"All  who  are  to  enter  the  horse-race  get  ready !" 
Rex  had  mounted  on  top  of  a  rock  and  now  shouted 
so  that  all  could  hear.  "The  race  will  be  run  from 
this  rock  to  that  lone  sycamore  and  back,"  and  he 
pointed  to  where  an  old  sycamore  tree  stood  out 
by  itself  a  half  a  mile  away.  "lola  Conroyal,  in 
behalf  of  her  father,  will  present  the  winner  with 
this  beautiful  saddle  that  you  see  lying  on  the  rock 
at  my  feet.  There  will  be  but  one  heat;  and  the 
man  on  the  back  of  the  first  horse  to  cross  a  line 


An  Interrupted  Gala  197 

drawn  from  this  rock  to  that  white  stone  a  couple 
of  rods  away,  takes  the  saddle.  Everybody  get 
ready  for  the  horse-race!" 

Five  youths,  two  Americans  and  three  Califor- 
nians,  mounted  on  their  horses,  now  dashed  up  to 
the  rock  where  Rex  stood  and  declared  themselves 
ready  for  the  race.  One  of  the  Californians  was 
Miguel  Vallejo  and  one  of  the  Americans  was  Bud 
Randolph;  and  at  once  these  two  boys  became  the 
center  of  interest;  for  the  horse  that  each  boy  rode 
had  defeated  all  rivals  heretofore,  and  now,  for  the 
first  time,  they  were  to  be  pitted  against  each  other. 
Consequently  these  two  horses  were  the  favorites 
in  the  coming  race,  and  each  had  his  enthusiastic 
backers,  who  were  ever  willing  to  shout  his  praises. 
Then,  too,  in  a  friendly  way  their  riders  were 
rivals.  Of  all  the  American  boys  in  the  Valley, 
Bud  Randolph  was  considered  the  most  skilful 
horseback  rider  and  lasso-thrower,  while  Miguel 
Vallejo  was  without  a  peer  in  horsemanship  and 
skill  with  the  lasso  among  the  Californian  youths 
of  his  age.  Also  this  was  the  first  time  that  either 
boy  had  met  the  other  in  friendly  contest.  Natu- 
rally, under  such  circumstances,  the  Americans  were 
all  shouting  for  Bud  Randolph  and  his  horse  and 
the  Californians  were  equally  sure  that  young  Val- 
lejo would  win  the  saddle. 

The  horse  of  Miguel  Vallejo  was  a  glossy  black 
in  color,  deep-chested  and  long-limbed,  while  that 
rode  by  Bud  Randolph  was  a  sturdy  iron-gray 


198  Fighting  With  Fremont 

American  pony,  at  least  a  couple  of  hands  shorter 
in  height  than  was  his  long-legged  antagonist. 

The  two  riders  differed  as  much  as  did  their 
horses.  Bud  Randolph  was  chunky  and  freckle- 
faced  and  tow-headed,  but  wonderfully  quick  and 
agile  in  his  movements  and  possessed  of  a  tempera- 
ment not  easily  thrown  into  confusion.  Miguel 
Vallejo  was  tall,  slim,  lithe,  dark-eyed,  dark-faced 
and  black-haired,  with  the  hot  passionate  blood  of 
his  noble  Spanish  ancestry  coursing  warmly 
through  his  veins,  tempered  by  a  singularly  just 
and  generous  character.  He  was  dressed  in  the 
charming  and  picturesque  costume  of  the  native 
Californian  of  wealth  and  social  distinction.  On 
his  head  he  wore  a  soft  felt  hat,  broad-brimmed 
and  circled  with  a  silver  and  gold  cord  and  tassels. 
His  jacket  was  of  dark  velvet,  with  scarlet  flounce 
and  facing,  and  adorned  with  many  silver  buttons, 
the  white  of  his  snowy  linen  showing  at  the  throat 
and  chest.  His  black  velvet  breeches  were  short, 
reaching  down  only  to  the  knees,  and  open  at  the 
bottom  for  about  six  inches  along  the  outer  side 
of  each  leg,  with  small  silver  buttons  along  the 
opening  and  a  fine  large  silver  button  with  which 
to  close  the  silk  knee-band.  A  scarlet  silk  sash 
was  tied  around  his  waist,  the  tasseled  end  falling 
down  gracefully  over  one  of  his  hips.  On  his  legs 
below  the  knees  were  beautifully  embroidered 
deerskin  leggings,  fastened  under  the  flexible-soled 
calfskin  shoes  by  broad  straps  and  around  the 


An  Interrupted  Gala  199 

knees  by  silk  garters.  .  The  insteps  of  the  shoes 
were  embroidered  with  silk  and  the  ends  of  the 
toes  were  pointed  and  turned  up  to  protect  the 
leather  from  the  stirrups.  Large  silver  spurs, 
fastened  to  the  heels  of  the  shoes,  completed  his 
personal  equipment.  Thus  dressed  and  seated  in 
his  elaborately  tooled  and  beautifully  adorned  sad- 
dle on  the  back  of  his  goodly  black  horse,  Miguel 
Vallejo  made,  indeed,  a  striking  and  picturesque 
appearance. 

Almost  in  direct  contrast  to  the  elaborate  and 
beautiful  costume  of  young  Vallejo  was  the  dress 
of  Bud  Randolph.  A  plain  broad-brimmed  hat 
covered  his  head.  A  blue  woolen  shirt,  with  a  red 
silk  handkerchief  knotted  around  the  neck,  fringed 
deerskin  trousers  fastened  about  the  waist  by  a 
broad  belt,  and  soft  deerskin  moccasins,  completed 
the  clothing  of  his  body.  He  wore  no  spurs, 
trusting  to  his  voice  and  a  small  riding  whip  to 
get  all  the  speed  possible  out  of  his  horse. 

Such  were  the  two  principal  contestants  in  the 
race  about  to  take  place;  and,  in  a  way,  they  typ- 
ified the  two  races  of  people  which  they  represented 
— the  sturdy,  practical,  enterprising  Anglo-Saxon 
and  the  elegant,  chivalrous,  display-loving,  roman- 
tic Spaniard. 

"Get  the  fore  hoofs  of  your  horses  on  the  line," 
and  Rex  pointed  to  a  small  furrow  that  had  been 
traced  in  the  ground  from  the  rock  where  he  stood 
to  a  small  white  stone  a  couple  of  rods  away. 


2OO  Fighting  With  Fremont 

"You  will  go  from  a  standing  start,  at  the  crack 
of  my  pistol.  Now,  every  man  who  is  to  race  get 
his  horse  on  the  line." 

After  a  couple  of  minutes  maneuvering  the  five 
contestants  reined  up  their  horses  on  the  line  be- 
tween the  two  rocks,  as  directed,  and  sat,  every  mus- 
cle tense,  awaiting  the  signal.  Back  of  this  line 
and  circling  out  along  both  sides  of  the  course 
crowded  the  friends  of  the  contestants. 

"I  am  counting  on  young  Vallejo  coming  in  a 
good  one  hundred  yards  ahead,"  boasted  one  of 
the  Californian's  friends.  "There's  not  a  horse  in 
the  Valley  that  can  beat  that  black  of  his.  I  have 
seen  him  race  and  I  know." 

"He  sure  does  look  like  a  racer,"  ventured  a 
young  American  standing  near;  "but  that  iron- 
gray  of  Bud's  has  got  greased  lightning  for  legs 
underneath  him  when  it  comes  to  racing,  and  I 
shouldn't  be  none  surprised  if  your  black  didn't  get 
a  smell  of  that  prize  saddle.  Bud  ain't  no  quitter 
and  his  horse  ain't  no  quitter  neither.  Now — " 

"Oh,  but  can't  you  men  wait  until  the  race  is  run 
before  you  settle  it!"  laughed  lola,  who,  with 
Thure  and  Ruth  Randolph,  was  standing  near 
enough  to  overhear  the  two  men.  "See,  Rex  is 
about  to  start  them,"  and  with  sparkling  eyes  an^d 
glowing  cheeks,  she  turned  toward  the  alert  line 
of  horsemen. 

"Are  all  the  racers  in  proper  position  and  ready?" 
called  Rex  at  that  moment. 


An  Interrupted  Gala  201 

"They  are,"  came  back  the  answer. 

"Then,  ready,"  and  he  raised  his  pistol  above  his 
head. 

There  was  not  a  horse  among  the  five  that  did 
not  know  what  that  moment  meant.  All  stood 
with  muscles  braced,  eyes  afire,  nostrils  dilated  and 
ears  pricked  forward. 

"Go !"  shouted  Rex,  and  pulled  the  pistol  trigger. 

As  if  started  by  one  shaft  of  machinery  the 
trained  horses  leaped  forward  at  the  crack  of  the 
pistol;  and  for  the  first  few  rods  no  one  could  say 
which  horse  was  ahead,  so  evenly  did  they  run. 
Then  the  black  of  Vallejo  and  a  bay  rode  by  a 
Mexican  began  slowly  pushing  ahead. 

"Hi!  Hi!  See  the  black!"  yelled  the  boastful 
Californian.  "He's  throwing  grass  in  the  face  of 
your  iron-gray!  He's  ahead  of  the  lot  in  the  first 
one  hundred  rods!  Hi!  Hi!  The  black!  The 
Vallejo  black!"  and  he  grabbed  off  his  hat  and 
swung  it  wildly  around  his  head. 

"He  certainly  is  going  some  now,"  admitted  the 
American;  "but  wait  till  the  race  is  done  before 
you  do  your  crowing.  'Tain't  the  horse  that  wins 
the  first  one  hundred  rods  that  gets  the  saddle,  but 
the  one  that  crosses  the  goal-line  first.  I  am  still 
counting  on  the  iron-gray  for  the  winner.  I  know 
Bud  and  I  know  his  horse." 

"Thank  you,  Jack,"  and  Ruth  touched  the  sleeve 
of  the  American.  "Bud  will  come  in  ahead,  if — 
if  he  can,"  and  her  cheeks  whitened  with  anxiety. 


2O2  Fighting  With  Fremont 

"But  Miguel's  horse  is  very  fast  and  he  is  such 
a  splendid  rider.  O,  I  do  hope  Bud  will  beat  him ! 
Bud  doesn't  like  to  be  beaten  by  anyone." 

"Well,  it  looks  as  if  he  were  going  to  be  beaten 
this  time,  whether  he  likes  it  or  not,"  and  lola,  her 
dark  eyes  glowing  with  excitement,  stamped  one 
little  foot  impatiently  on  the  ground.  "He  isn't 
even  second  in  the  race.  The  bay  is  still  ahead 
of  him  and  they  are  already  almost  to  the  tree. 
And  I  wanted  him  to  get  the  saddle,"  and  her  face 
flushed  a  little.  "He — he  needs  it  more  than  Mi- 
guel does." 

"Hi!  Hi!  The  black!  See  the  black!  He  is 
a  good  ten  yards  in  the  lead!"  yelled  the  excited 
Californian,  as  Vallejo  and  horse  swung  swiftly 
around  the  sycamore  tree  and  started  back  on  the 
home-stretch.  "Now,  where  is  your  iron-gray?" 
and  he  turned  triumphantly  to  the  American.  "He 
isn't  even  second.  Where  is  them  greased  light- 
ning legs  of  his?  Why,  he  must  be  a  good  five 
rods  behind  the  black,  and  the  race  already  half 
run!" 

"He's  a-coming,"  answered  the  American  dryly, 
his  face  lighting  up,  for,  as  he  spoke,  Bud  was 
seen  to  strike  his  horse  for  the  first  time  with  his 
whip  and  to  lean  forward  in  his  saddle,  as  if  he 
were  urging  his  pony  to  do  his  utmost.  "Now 
watch  them  greased-lightning  legs  split  the  wind." 

And,  indeed,  Bud  was  a-coming.  In  very  short 
order  he  overtook  and  passed  the  bay  and  soon  was 


An  Interrupted  Gala  203 

pressing  close  behind  the  big  black,  how  close  it 
was  impossible  to  tell  at  that  distance,  for  the  two 
horses  were  coming  directly  toward  the  excited 
onlookers. 

The  yelling  and  the  shouting  had  now  all  ceased. 
Everyone  stood  with  eyes  intent  on  the  coming 
horses,  hardly  venturing  to  draw  a  breath,  so  great 
was  the  suspense.  Could  the  wonderful  little  iron- 
gray  overtake  the  big  black  in  time  to  pass  the  line 
first?  was  the  query  on  every  face. 

The  two  horses  were  now  within  a  hundred  rods 
of  the  goal  and  seemingly  running  almost  abreast. 
Young  Vallejo  was  leaning  forward  almost  on  the 
neck  of  his  black,  and  stroking  the  glossy  neck, 
and  urging  him  with  endearing  words  and  alluring 
promises  to  do  his  utmost.  Bud  sat  a  little  humped 
in  the  saddle,  his  left  hand  holding  the  reins  loose, 
his  right  gripping  tight  the  upraised  whip,  his  lips 
white  and  tight-drawn  across  his  teeth,  his  blue 
eyes  fixed  on  the  goal  and  the  big  black,  now  not 
two  yards  ahead  of  him. 

"Oh!— Oh!"  gasped  Tola,  as  Bud  suddenly 
brought  his  whip  down  sharply  on  the  flank  of  the 
iron-gray,  when  within  ten  rods  of  the  goal,  and 
uttered  so  piercing  and  sudden  a  yell  that  every- 
one jumped. 

Like  a  huge  jack-rabbit,  the  little  iron-gray 
bounded  forward  in  response  to  that  blow  and  yell ; 
and,  in  another  instant,  had  crossed  the  goal-line 
a  length  ahead  of  the  black. 


2O4  Fighting  With  Fremont 

For  one  brief  moment  everyone  was  silent;  and 
then  all  yelled,  the  Californians  as  heartily  as  did 
the  Americans,  and  made  a  rush  for  the  victorious 
horseman;  but  the  first  one  to  congratulate  Bud 
was  Miguel  Vallejo.  The  instant  he  pulled  up  his 
horse,  he  leaped  from  his  saddle  and  hurried  to 
where  Bud  sat  on  the  little  iron-gray. 

"Wonderful!  Wonderful!"  he  cried,  his  dark 
face  shining  with  admiration,  as  he  reached  up 
and  gripped  Bud's  hand.  "The  most  wonderful 
little  horse  I  have  ever  seen;  and  you,  you  are  a 
most  marvelous  rider,  Bud  Randolph.  I  did  not 
think  there  was  a  horse  and  boy  in  all  California 
that  could  beat  me  and  my  black;  but  you  and 
this  little  horse  have  done  it,"  and  again  he 
gripped  Bud's  hand  and  shook  it,  only  sincere  ad- 
miration and  honest  wonder  pictured  on  his  hand- 
some face. 

As  soon  as  the  turmoil  had  been  sufficiently 
quieted,  Rex  summoned  Bud  to  the  rock;  and  Tola, 
with  cheeks  that  flushed  with  the  deep  red  of  the 
rose  and  eyes  that  shone  like  stars  underneath  the 
dark  of  her  eyebrows,  presented  him  with  the  prize 
saddle.  As  she  did  so  she  whispered :  "I  am  glad, 
so  glad  you  won  it,  Bud;  because,  because,"  she 
added  hurriedly,  "you  are  an  American." 

"You  have  a  wonderful  little  horse  there,  Bud," 
Rex  said,  as  he  stepped  down  from  the  rock  and 
laid  his  hand  on  the  neck  of  the  iron-gray.  "I 
never  saw  but  one  horse  run  the  way  he  does." 


An  Interrupted  Gala  205 

"Yes,"  answered  Bud,  his  face  flushing  with 
pride,  "Gray  Cloud  is  a  wonder;  and  he  ought  to 
be,  for  his  father  was  your  own  White  Cloud." 

"Ah-h!"  and  Rex  drew  in  a  long  breath.  "That 
explains  it.  I  thought  he  ran  like  White  Cloud. 
Well,  he  is  a  worthy  son  of  a  most  worthy 
father." 

For  many  minutes  the  merry  crowd  buzzed  ex- 
citedly around  Bud  and  his  little  iron-gray,  Gray 
Cloud ;  but,  at  length,  Rex  again  mounted  the  rock, 
and  was  about  to  announce  that  the  next  event 
would  be  the  rope-throwing  contest,  when  his  eyes, 
glancing  over  the  level  of  the  valley,  caught  sight 
of  a  solitary  horseman  riding  swiftly  toward  them, 
and  swinging  his  hat  excitedly  as  he  rode  to  at- 
tract their  attention.  A  second  look  and  he  recog- 
nized one  of  Noel  Conroyal's  vaqueros,  and  he 
knew  by  the  man's  actions  that  he  was  the  bearer 
of  an  important  message.  Dill,  at  about  the  same 
moment,  had  caught  sight  of  the  horseman,  and  at 
once  hurried  to  the  side  of  Rex. 

"It's  Pio  Pedro,"  Dill  said  anxiously.  "And  he's 
riding  one  of  dad's  best  horses.  I  wonder  what 
can  have  happened?"  and  his  face  whitened. 

The  eyes  of  all  the  picnickers  were  now  on  the 
horseman,  and  many  a  face  besides  Dill's  whitened 
with  apprehension  as  he  drew  near.  All  felt,  in- 
stinctively, that  he  was  a  messenger  of  ill,  that  his 
swift  coming  had  something  to  do  with  the  trouble 
between  the  Mexicans  and  the  Americans ;  and  they 


206  Fighting  With  Fremont 

awaited  his  arrival  with  the  dread  of  what  his  mes- 
sage might  portend  showing  on  every  face. 

"The  sefior  commands  your  immediate  return," 
the  rider  cried,  as  he  pulled  up  his  panting,  sweat- 
dripping  horse  in  front  of  Rex  and  Dill.  "Not 
longer  than  an  hour  ago  there  came  to  the  rancho 
one  hard-riding  man,  who  says  the  soldiers  of 
Mexico  are  marching  up  the  Sacramento  Valley, 
driving  out  all  the  American  settlers  and  their 
ranches  plundering  and  burning  and  their  cattle 
shooting.  And  the  sefior  would  have  all  return 
at  once  to  his  rancho." 

"Saddle  up!"  shouted  Rex  the  moment  the  man 
Ceased  speaking;  and  then,  when  he  noted  the  con- 
fusion into  which  the  words  of  the  messenger  had 
thrown  the  company,  he  added  reassuringly:  "I 
do  not  think  there  is  any  immediate  danger ;  but  we 
had  better  get  back  to  the  house  as  soon  as  we  can. 
Probably  we  will  find  the  report  of  the  coming  of 
the  Mexican  soldiers  only  a  rumor,  or,  at  least, 
greatly  exaggerated.  Now,  there  is  no  need  of  any 
rush  or  excitement.  Just  quietly  saddle  up  and 
we  will  ride  back  to  the  house,"  and  he  led  the  way 
to  where  the  horses  had  been  picketed. 

In  a  very  few  minutes  all  the  gay  picnickers  were 
on  their  horses'  backs ;  but  now  with  all  the  gaiety 
driven  out  of  their  hearts  by  the  dread  news  of 
Pio  Pedro. 

There  was  no  laughter,  nor  singing  and  but  little 
talking  on  that  swift  ride  back  to  the  Conroyal 


An  Interrupted  Gala  207 

rancho.  Rex  and  Dill  rode  ahead  and  set  a  swift 
pace ;  and  the  others  followed  close  behind.  When 
they  came  within  sight  of  the  house  and  the  other 
buildings  they  saw  the  evidences  of  great  excite- 
ment there.  The  court  in  front  of  the  house  was 
crowded  with  men  and  women  and  horses;  and 
every  minute  or  so  a  little  party  of  horsemen  would 
separate  themselves  from  the  crowd  and  gallop  off 
swiftly  over  the  valley  in  different  directions. 

"O  dear!"  and  lola's  voice  almost  broke  into 
sobs.  "This  will  spoil  my  gala  day.  Everybody 
is  going  home;  and  we  can't  have  the  dear  dance 
with  the  sweet  music  in  the  big  sala  to-night;  and 
those  horrid  Mexican  soldiers  will  come  and  drive 
us  all  from  our  homes  where  we  have  been  so 
happy;  and — " 

"No  they  won't,"  and  Thure's  face  flushed  and 
his  eyes  lighted  defiantly.  "They  won't  drive  dad 
an  inch.  And  there  are  Fremont  and  Kit  Carson! 
Just  let  them  try  to  drive  us  Americans  out  of  the 
Valley,  and  see  what  Fremont  and  Kit  Carson  and 
their  men  will  do  about  it !  They  are  here  on  pur- 
pose to  protect  the  rights  of  the  American  settlers ; 
and  Fremont  and  his  men  are  the  fellows  that  can 
do  it." 

"Oh,  I  hope  there  won't  be  any  fighting!"  and 
Ruth's  cheeks  paled.  "I  don't  see  how  men  can 
stand  up  and  kill  one  another,  even  if  they  are  mad. 
The  killing  don't  do  any  good  and  makes  every- 
body suffer  so." 


2o8  Fighting  With  Fremont 

"Girls  can't  understand  such  things,"  and  Bud's 
square  jaws  came  together.  "A  man  has  got  to 
fight  sometimes,  just  to  show  that  he  is  a  man  and 
not  a  cowardly  dog  that  anybody  with  a  foot  can 
kick;  and  he  has  got  to  protect,  even  if  he  has  to 
fight  to  do  it,  his  own  life  and  the  lives  of  those  dear 
to  him.  Why,  even  a  mother  wolf  will  fight  to 
protect  her  young!  I — " 

But,  at  this  moment,  they  came  within  hailing 
distance  of  the  crowd  in  front  of  the  house  and  the 
shouting  back  and  forth  made  it  impossible  for 
Bud  to  finish  the  sentence ;  and,  in  another  minute, 
they  were  in  the  midst  of  the  excited  men  and 
women. 

They  found  everybody  greatly  excited  at  the 
house.  A  couple  of  hours  before  one  of  the  settlers 
from  further  down  the  Valley  had  galloped  up  to 
the  rancho;  and  had  told  them  that  a  friendly  In- 
dian had  seen  a  body  of  some  two  or  three  hundred 
Mexican  cavalry  marching  up  the  Valley,  and  that 
they  had  been  sent  by  General  Castro  to  drive  the 
Americans  out  of  the  country  and  to  destroy  their 
buildings  and  to  scatter  and  kill  their  cattle  and 
horses ;  and  that  he  had  been  sent  to  warn  the  set- 
tlers to  flee  to  the  protection  of  Captain  Fremont, 
who  was  in  camp  with  his  men  at  the  Buttes. 
Then,  without  dismounting,  he  had  whirled  his 
horse  about  and  had  galloped  ofT  to  warn  Jack 
Hopkins,  a  settler  who  had  not  been  able  to  come 
to  the  Conroyal  gala. 


An  Interrupted  Gala  209 

For  a  time,  after  the  arrival  of  the  picnickers, 
there  was  great  confusion  and  excitement.  Some 
of  the  men  were  for  organizing  a  company  of 
mounted  riflemen  then  and  there  with  which  to  de- 
fend their  homes ;  others  favored  first  placing  their 
women  and  children  under  the  protection  of  Fre- 
mont and  then  offering  their  services  to  him,  argu- 
ing that  they  were  too  few  in  numbers  to  make  an 
effective  resistance  and  that,  if  they  would  success- 
fully defend  their  rights,  they  must  unite  all  their 
forces  under  the  leadership  of  Captain  Fremont, 
the  only  United  States  officer  in  the  vicinity,  and 
present  a  solid  front,  backed  by  the  American  flag, 
to  the  enemy.  This  latter  counsel,  strenuously 
advocated  by  Hammer  Jones,  Conroyal,  Rex  Holt 
and  his  father,  at  last  prevailed;  and  the  settlers 
all  agreed  to  hurry  back  to  their  homes,  get  to- 
gether as  quickly  as  possible  their  movable  val- 
uables, and  hasten  with  them  and  their  women  and 
children  to  the  camp  of  Fremont  at  the  Buttes. 

Now  there  were  hurried  good-bys,  the  speedy 
mounting  of  horses,  and  soon  the  last  guest  had 
departed  from  the  Conroyal  rancho;  and  Tola's 
gala  day,  that  had  opened  so  auspiciously,  had 
come  to  its  unfortunate  ending. 


CHAPTER  XV 

AT   THE   BUTTES 

DY  sunrise  the  next  morning  the  Conroyal  car- 
••— '  retas  were  loaded,  the  oxen  yoked  to  them, 
the  mule-train  packed,  a  small  bunch  of  fat  cattle 
herded  ready  to  drive  with  them — they  did  not  wish 
to  come  to  Fremont  empty  handed — and  the  horses 
saddled  and  ready  for  mounting. 

"All  aboard  for  the  overland  express !"  Mr.  Con- 
royal  shouted,  when  everything  was  ready  for  the 
start.  "Last  call!  Start  in  three  jerks  of  five 
lambs'  tails.  All  aboard!"  and  his  big  voice  rang 
out  jovially,  as  if  abandoning  his  home  was  one 
of  the  jolly  happenings  of  life. 

Mrs.  Conroyal,  followed  by  lola  and  Dill's  wife 
and  the  women  servants  now  came  out  of  the  house, 
and,  with  white  sorrowful  faces,  mounted  their 
horses.  It  was  hard  for  the  women  folks  to  say 
good-by  to  their  home,  knowing  that  they  might 
never  see  it  again. 

Mr.  Conroyal  locked  the  doors  and  fastened  the 
windows,  and  then  sprang  on  the  back  of  his  big 
black  stallion,  Bilboa. 

"Forward!"  he  cried,  and  waved  his  hand;  and 
the  trek  for  the  camp  of  Fremont  had  begun. 
210 


At  the  Buttes  211 

Rex  led  White  Cloud.  He  was  not  minded  to 
let  the  noble  old  horse  fall  into  the  hands  of  the 
Mexican  soldiers.  His  father  rode  by  his  side. 
Hammer  Jones  had  left  for  the  camp  of  Fremont 
an  hour  before,  anxious  to  get  back  to  his  com- 
mander with  the  news  of  the  coming  of  the  Mex- 
ican soldiers  as  speedily  as  horse's  legs  could  take 
him.  Thure  and  Tola  rode  behind  their  father 
and  mother;  and  behind  them  came  the  creaking 
carretas,  the  patient  oxen  straining  in  their  yokes. 
Then  followed  the  servants  and  the  pack-mules  and 
the  vaqueros  with  the  cattle  and  a  small  drove  of 
horses. 

The  Buttes  were  some  forty  miles  north  of  the 
Conroyal  rancho;  and,  by  urging  the  oxen,  yoked 
to  the  carretas,  and  the  pack-mules,  our  friends 
hoped  to  reach  the  camp  of  Fremont  early  in  the 
afternoon  of  the  second  day.  Ordinarily  such  a 
journey  as  this  would  have  been  considered  as  little 
less  than  a  picnic  by  these  hardy  pioneers ;  for  the 
women,  as  well  as  the  men,  were  accustomed  to 
long  rides  on  horseback  and  to  roughing  it  out- 
doors. But  now,  with  the  dread  of  being  over- 
taken by  the  Mexican  soldiers  and  the  harrowing 
apprehensions  of  the  coming  hostilities  ever  pres- 
ent in  their  minds,  no  one  could  enjoy  the  beauties 
of  the  scenery  or  take  pleasure  in  the  exhilarating 
freedom  of  life  out  in  the  open  air;  and,  conse- 
quently, when  about  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  of 
the  second  day  they  caught  their  first  glimpse  of 


212  Fighting  With  Fremont 

the  Buttes,  the  rocky  formation  that  gave  name  to 
the  place,  it  was  a  welcomed  sight  to  all. 

They  found  the  valley  surrounding  the  camp  of 
Fremont  already  dotted  with  the  camps  of  the 
American  settlers,  who  had  fled  to  him  for  protec- 
tion, and  more  coming  in  all  the  time ;  for  the  news 
of  the  advance  of  the  Mexican  soldiers  had  been 
spread  all  over  the  Valley  as  fast  as  the  swift  legs 
of  horses  could  carry  it,  and  all  the  American  set- 
tlers had  at  once  turned  to  Fremont  for  protection 
and  counsel. 

"Look,  there!  See  that  man  on  the  big  iron- 
gray  horse!"  Thure  exclaimed  to  lola,  as  they 
neared  the  camp.  "That  is  Captain  Fremont. 
And  the  man  standing  near  his  horse's  head  talk- 
ing to  him,  is  Kit  Carson.  And  there  is  Hammer 
Jones !  See,  he  has  recognized  us !"  and  he  caught 
off  his  hat  and  swung  it  in  answer  to  the  swinging 
hat  of  Hammer  Jones. 

"It  must  be  great  to  know  men  like  Captain  Fre- 
mont and  Kit  Carson,"  lola  said,  her  eyes  intent 
on  the  figures  of  the  two  men.  "I  have  always 
wanted  to  know  Kit  Carson,  because  dad  and  Dill 
have  told  so  many  wonderful  stories  about  him; 
and  lately  I  have  heard  so  much  about  Captain 
Fremont  that  I  want  to  know  him,  too.  I  don't 
think  either  one  of  them  looks  so  very  terrible;  and 
Kit  Carson  isn't  nearly  as  big  as  Hammer  Jones  or 
Dad,"  and  there  was  a  touch  of  disappointment  in 
Tola's  voice. 


At  the  Buttes  213 

"It  isn't  muscles  and  bones  that  make  men  lead- 
ers of  other  men,"  declared  Thure.  "It's— it's— 
well,  it's  brains,  and  being  able  to  use  them  best 
when  they  are  needed  most — Hello!  Looks  as  if 
Dad  was  going  to  camp  here!" 

Thure  was  right;  for,  as  he  spoke,  Noel  Con- 
royal  halted  his  company  on  the  summit  of  a  little 
hill  that  looked  down  on  the  waters  of  the  Rio  de 
las  Plumas  a  few  rods  above  its  confluence  with  the 
Sacramento  River  and  something  like  a  quarter  of 
a  mile  from  the  camp  of  Fremont,  and  ordered  the 
camp  to  be  pitched  there  in  a  little  grove  of  ever- 
green oaks,  where  there  would  be  an  abundance  of 
wood  for  fuel  and  water  and  grass  for  the  cattle 
and  horses  and  high  ground  for  the  tents,  camp- 
ing points  that  no  experienced  mountaineer  ever 
overlooked.  Then  he  and  Frank  Holt  and  Rex 
and  Dill  rode  forward  to  pay  their  respects  to  Cap- 
tain Fremont. 

"Come  on,  Tola,"  and  Thure,  followed  by  Tola, 
galloped  after  his  father,  calling  out,  as  he  did  so: 
"We  are  coming,  too,  Dad!" 

"All  right!  Only  just  keep  a  little  in  the  back- 
ground," laughed  back  Conroyal. 

Captain  Fremont  had  just  returned  from  a  long 
ride  with  Kit  Carson  over  the  surrounding  valley, 
and  was  now  seated  on  a  log  before  his  tent.  Near 
him  stood  Kit  Carson  and  Hammer  Jones  and 
a  number  of  his  deerskin-clothed  riflemen.  He 
arose,  as  our  friends  dismounted,  and  welcomed 


214  Fighting  With  Fremont 

each  with  a  hearty  shake  of  the  hand.  His  blue 
eyes  twinkled  as  he  gripped  the  hand  of  Thure. 

"Mr.  Conroyal,"  he  said,  turning  to  Thure's 
father  and  still  keeping  his  hold  on  the  boy's  hand, 
"I  shall  have  to  report  this  young  man  to  you  for 
rank  disobedience  of  orders." 

"What!  How  is  that?"  and  Conroyal,  with  an 
angry  frown  on  his  face,  turned  his  eyes  on  Thure's 
flushing  countenance.  "If  my  boy  disobeyed  your 
orders,  he  should  have  suffered  the  penalty.  If 
you  did  not  punish  him,  then  I  will,"  and  his  face 
hardened.  "Now,  tell  me  the  circumstances." 

"He  has  been  punished,"  Fremont  answered 
quietly.  "I  ordered  all  his  weapons  taken  from 
him  and  himself  placed  under  arrest." 

"Thure,"  and  there  was  shame  and  reproach  as 
well  as  anger  in  his  father's  voice,  "why  have  you 
not  told  me  of  this  ?" 

"I— I"     Thure's  voice  choked  in  his  throat. 

"But  he  received  my  pardon  the  moment  I 
learned  that  his  breach  of  discipline  had  been  the 
means  of  saving  my  life,"  continued  Fremont  smil- 
ing; and  then,  still  keeping  fast  hold  of  Thure's 
hand,  he  went  on  to  tell  how,  during  the  attack  on 
the  Indian  village,  Thure  had  shot  the  Indian  at 
the  moment  the  Indian  was  about  to  discharge  an 
arrow  into  his  breast  and  the  remarkable  circum- 
stances under  which  the  shot  had  been  made.  "You 
have  reason  to  be  proud  of  this  boy,"  he  concluded, 


At  the  Buttes  215 

as  Ke  released  Thure's  hand.  "He  has  a  quick 
brain  in  a  cool  head." 

The  look  on  Noel  Conroyal's  face  during  these 
words  had  changed  from  shame  and  wrath  to  one 
of  unbounded  astonishment. 

"And  you  never  told  me  a  word  about  this !"  he 
exclaimed,  again  turning  his  eyes  on  the  red  face 
ofThure.  "Why?" 

"I — I — "  stammered  Thure.  "I  did  not  want 
you  to  know  that  Captain  Fremont  had  ordered  me 
to  give  up  my  arms  and  had  placed  me  under  ar- 
rest, not  even  if  my  shooting  the  Indian  had  caused 
him  to  pardon  me;  and  I  begged  Rex  and  Ham  to 
say  nothing  to  you  about  it — " 

"Tew  which  we  agreed,"  broke  in  Ham  grin- 
ning, "'cause  we  wanted  you  tew  hear  th'  tale  from 
Captain  Fremont's  own  lips;  an'  we  knowed  he'd 
tell  you  thj  first  time  he  saw  you.  I  reckon  he's 
jest  a  chip  off  th'  old  block,  Con,  an'  so  you'd  bet- 
ter pardon  him,  same  as  th'  Captain  has,"  and 
Ham's  eyes  twinkled. 

There  was  more  than  pardon  in  the  eyes  Con- 
royal  now  turned  on  Thure;  but  he  only  said 
gruffly:  "Thure,  I  am  more  sorry  than  I  can  tell 
you  to  hear  that  you  disobeyed  the  orders  of  your 
commanding  officer.  But,  since  Captain  Fremont 
has  been  kind  enough  to  overlook  it,  I  can  do  no 
less.  Only,"  and  his  countenance  relaxed  into  a 
grin,  "I  reckon  if  you  had  not  got  that  Indian,  you 


216  Fighting  With  Fremont 

would  have  got  about  the  worst  thrashing  from  me 
a  boy  ever  had/' 

Thure  had  not  enjoyed  this  scene  in  the  least; 
and  now  that  his  part  in  it  was  over,  he  made  haste 
to  get  out  of  the  lime-light  as  quickly  as  possible 
and  stepped  behind  the  huge  body  of  Hammer 
Jones. 

"Now,  what  about  this  rumored  advance  of  the 
Mexican  cavalry  ?"  Fremont  demanded  the  moment 
the  greetings  and  the  introductions  were  over. 
"The  whole  Valley  seems  to  be  thoroughly  alarmed ; 
and  yet  I  can  get  no  clear  and  definite  information, 
except  that  a  friendly  Indian  is  reported  to  have 
seen  some  two  or  three  hundred  Mexican  soldiers 
advancing  up  the  Sacramento  with  the  intention  of 
driving  out  the  American  settlers  and  destroying 
their  homes.  My  scouts  have  failed  to  discover 
any  signs  of  the  Mexicans ;  and  I  am  unwilling  to 
make  any  hostile  move  until  the  Mexicans  give  me 
just  cause.  As  you  all  know  the  friendly  relations 
between  my  government  and  Mexico  at  present  are 
strained  almost  to  the  breaking  point,  and  I  must 
do  nothing  to  precipitate  that  break.  But,  as  an 
officer  of  the  United  States  army,  I  consider  it  my 
duty,  in  the  present  unsettled  condition  of  affairs 
in  California,  to  offer  the  protection  of  their  flag  to 
all  the  citizens  of  the  United  States  now  living  in 
the  Valley,  who  feel  that  they  need  its  protection. 
Every  south  wind  that  blows  comes  laden  with 
rumors  of  war  and  hostile  threats  on  the  part  of 


At  the  Buttes  217 

the  Mexicans;  but,  heretofore,  they  have  proven 
as  light  and  as  untrustworthy  as  the  winds  that 
bore  them.  Now,  I  would  like  to  find  out  what 
there  is  at  the  bottom  of  this  last  rumor." 

"I  reckon  here's  a  man  that  can  tell  you;  and  he 
ain't  no  Injun,  but  a  white  man;  and  I  know  he's 
honest  and  his  word  is  trustworthy.  His  name  is 
Knight ;  and  he's  just  come  in  from  the  south,"  and 
one  of  the  settlers,  followed  by  a  large  red- 
whiskered  man,  pushed  his  way  through  the  crowd 
that  by  now  had  surrounded  Fremont. 

"Why,  that's  Jack  Hopkins!"  exclaimed  lola, 
who  now  stood  close  by  the  side  of  Thure  behind 
Hammer  Jones,  the  moment  she  saw  the  settler. 

"Sure,"  agreed  Thure.  "And  that  big  red- 
whiskered  fellow  behind  him  is  Tom  Knight,  who 
lives  down  near  the  mouth  of  the  Cosumnes  River. 
We  stopped  over  night  at  his  place,  when  I  went 
with  dad  to  San  Francisco  last  fall.  He  ought  to 
know,  if  anybody  knows,  whether  or  not  the  Mex- 
ican soldiers  are  marching  up  the  Valley,  seeing 
that  he  lives  so  far  south.  Listen!"  and  both  bent 
forward  anxiously  to  catch  the  words  of  Mr. 
Knight,  who  was  about  to  give  his  information  to 
Captain  Fremont. 

"Yes,"  began  Knight,  in  response  to  Captain 
Fremont's  demand  to  know  what  he  knew,  "I 
reckon  I  can  give  you  the  ground  on  which  this 
here  rumor  'bout  the  coming  of  the  Mexicans 
started,  being  that  I've  seen  them  Mexican  soldiers 


218  Fighting  With  Fremont 

and  talked  with  their  officers,"  and  he  paused  for 
an  instant  to  note  the  effect  of  his  words. 

The  crowd  of  circling  men  pressed  closer,  then 
stood  expectantly  silent,  every  eye  on  his  face. 
Captain  Fremont  made  a  quick  step  to  the  man's 
side,  his  face  alight  with  interest. 

"Well,"  he  demanded  impatiently,  "let  us  have 
your  story,  the  meat  of  it  as  quickly  as  possible." 

"Sartin,"  continued  the  red-whiskered  man. 
"I'm  a-going  to  give  it  to  you  just  as  fast  as  I  can 
shoot  it  out  of  my  mouth.  Three  days  ago  this 
here  morning,  I  was  out  looking  for  some  cattle 
down  by  the  Big  Elk  Ford,  which  is  where  most 
folks  going  north  cross  the  river,  when  I  saw  a 
big  drove  of  horses,  must  have  been  two  or  three 
hundred  of  them,  a-coming  up  the  valley  from  the 
direction  of  the  Big  Elk  Ford,  under  the  charge  of 
Mexican  soldiers.  Naturally  this  made  me  some 
curious,  so  I  rode  down  to  interview  them  soldiers. 
I  found  fourteen  Mexican  soldiers,  commanded  by 
a  fellow  by  the  name  of  Arce,  a-driving  them 
horses;  and  was  told  that  they  had  been  sent  by 
General  Castro  to  the  Mission  of  San  Rafael  to 
get  the  horses  and  to  bring  them  to  Santa  Clara, 
the  general's  headquarters;  and  that  General  Cas- 
tro wanted  the  horses  to  mount  a  battalion  of  two 
hundred  men,  with  which  he  was  a-going  to  drive 
all  the  American  settlers  out  of  the  Sacramento 
Valley  and  that  when  he  had  done  this  he  was 


At  the  Buttes  219 

a-gomg  to  fortify  the  Bear  River  Pass  in  the  Cali- 
fornia Mountains  and  allow  no  more  men  from  the 
United  States  to  come  into  California.  Ruther  a 
big  proposition  for  the  Mexicans  to  tackle,  I 
thought ;  but  I  said  nothing ;  and  knowing  that  you 
had  got  back,  with  your  fighters  along  with  you,  I 
reckoned  you'd  like  to  know  about  this  move  of  the 
Mexicans  and  about  what  General  Castro  was 
a-thinking  of  doing,  so  I  hurried  back  home  and 
getting  a  fresh  horse  started  north  to  hunt  you  up. 
Now,  I  reckon,  'twas  this  big  drove  of  horses,  with 
the  Mexican  soldiers  along  with  them,  that  that 
there  Indian  saw  a  long  way  off  and  took  the  whole 
of  them  for  a  lot  of  Mexican  cavalry  coming  to 
clean  out  the  Sacramento  Valley." 

"I  fancy  you  are  right,"  Fremont  declared. 
"The  Indian  must  have  mistaken  your  big  drove  of 
horses  for  a  body  of  cavalry.  But,"  and  the  lines 
on  his  strong  face  hardened  and  his  eyes  glinted,  "it 
would  appear  that  their  real  purpose  after  all  is  to 
drive  the  Americans  out  of  California.  They  only 
await  the  placing  of  men  on  the  backs  of  the 
horses." 

"Excuse  me,  Captain,"  and  a  brawny,  deerskin- 
clothed  frontiersman  named  Merritt  took  a  step  out 
from  the  crowd  and  faced  Captain  Fremont,  "but, 
seein'  as  how  General  Castro  is  a-purposin'  tew  git 
Mexican  soldiers  astraddle  of  them  bosses  tew 
drive  us  Americans  outten  th'  country,  wouldn't  it 


22O  Fighting  With  Fremont 

be  a  right  proper  idee  for  us  tew  do  th'  straddlin' 
ourselves — tew,  as  it  war,  confiscate  them  hosses 
for  th'  good  of  th'  Valley?" 

A  great  shout  of  approval  greeted  the  suggestion 
of  the  frontiersman.  It  was  a  sort  of  poetic  justice 
that  appealed  to  the  hearts  of  nearly  all  of  these 
rough  men — to  take  the  horses  intended  to  be  used 
against  them  for  their  own  use. 

"By  th'  long-eared  Ananias!"  grinned  Ham, 
"'Twould  sarve  them  Mexies  right  tew  git  them 
hosses  from  them ;  an'  I'll  be  one  tew  do  it." 

"And  I,"  yelled  a  dozen  voices,  as  the  crowd 
surged  closer  around  Hammer  Jones  and  Merritt. 

"What  do  you  say,  Captain?"  and  the  frontiers- 
man turned  an  eager  face  to  Fremont.  "Say  th' 
word,  an'  I'll  git  tewgather  a  dozen  good  men;  an* 
we'll  start  after  them  hosses  afore  sunup  tew-mor- 
rer.  We  can  overhaul  them  hosses  afore  them 
Mexicans  can  git  them  tew  Santa  Clara;  an'  th' 
rest'll  be  as  easy  as  ropin'  tame  steers.  Them 
Mexicans  won't  fight.  They  care  more  for  their 
own  hides  than  they  do  for  th'  hosses." 

For  a  moment  Fremont  stood  silent,  his  eyes 
staring  straight  in  front  of  him,  but  seeing  nothing. 
Had  the  time  come  to  make  the  first  move?  Ap- 
parently it  had.  And  yet,  was  he  prepared  to  as- 
sume the  responsibility  for  such  an  act?  Would 
his  government  support  him  in  it?  Would  the 
private  instructions  brought  him  by  Lieutenant  Gil- 
lespie  from  the  government  and  from  his  father-in- 


At  the  Buttes  221 

law,  Senator  Benton,  who,  he  well  knew,  wrote 
with  the  authority  of  the  Washington  administra- 
tion back  of  him,  authorize  such  a  move?  These 
and  many  other  similar  queries  passed  in  swift  re- 
view before  his  active  brain,  as  he  stood  there,  sur- 
rounded by  those  hardy,  deerskin-clothed  frontiers- 
men and  settlers,  thousands  of  miles  from  his  home 
government,  absolutely  dependent  upon  his  own 
judgment.  He  knew  that,  if  these  horses  were 
captured,  the  act  might  be,  nay  probably  would  be, 
construed  by  the  Mexican  authorities  as  an  act  of 
war,  and  that,  if  war  had  not  already  been  declared 
between  the  United  States  and  Mexico,  this  act 
might  precipitate  the  conflict — But,  if  the  informa- 
tion Lieutenant  Gillespie  brought  him,  if  the  judg- 
ment of  Senator  Benton  could  be  trusted,  then  hos- 
tilities between  the  two  countries  must  have  already 
begun.  Yet,  he  had  had  no  definite  information 
that  war  had  been  declared.  Dared  he  act  with- 
out it?  His  lips  closed  tightly.  Yes;  for  plainly 
his  government  intended  him  to  act  the  moment 
there  was  cause  to  act;  and  this  action  of  General 
Castro  in  gathering  horses  for  the  publicly  de- 
clared purpose  of  mounting  men  with  which  to 
drive  the  Americans  out  of  the  country,  gave  him 
cause,  justified  the  capture  of  the  horses.  He 
squared  his  shoulders  and  threw  back  his  head. 

"Choose  your  men,  Merritt,"  he  said  succinctly. 
"Only  they  must  not  come  from  the  ranks  of  my 
men;  and  there  must  be  no  blood  shed,  unless  shed 


222  Fighting  With  Fremont 

by  the  Mexicans  first.  I  will  not  be  responsible 
for  the  shedding  of  the  first  human  blood." 

"Hurra!"  and  the  frontiersman  jerked  off  his 
hat  and  threw  it  on  the  ground  in  front  of  him. 
"Who  is  with  me?" 

Almost  instantly  his  hat  was  buried  deep  under 
the  pile  of  hats  that  were  showered  down  on  the 
ground  in  front  of  him. 

"Bully  fellers  every  one  on  you;  but  a  dozen  th' 
likes  of  you  is  enough  tew  scare  th'  teeth  outten 
them  Mexicans,  so  I'll  jest  take  twelve  of  you,  what 
I  know  tew  be  good  men  an'  straight  shooters," 
and  Merritt,  as  the  men  stepped  forward  to  pick  up 
their  hats,  selected  twelve  of  the  best  men. 

"Now,  fellers,"  and  Merritt  turned  to  the  twelve 
men,  who  now  stood  in  a  little  group  by  themselves, 
"be  ready  tew  start  tew-morrer  mornin'  jest  as  soon 
as  it  is  light  enough  tew  see;  an*  ride  your  fastest 
an'  most  endurin'  bosses.  We  will  start  from  my 
camp,  which  is  over  thar  in  that  bunch  of  evergreen 
oaks,"  and  he  pointed  to  a  little  clump  of  trees  some 
two  hundred  rods  distant.  "Any  further  instruc- 
tions, Captain?"  and  he  turned  to  Captain  Fre- 
mont. 

"Yes,"  answered  Fremont.  "You  and  Mr. 
Knight  and  Kit  Carson  and  Godey  and  Noel  Con- 
royal  and  Frank  Holt  and  Hammer  Jones  come  with 
me  to  my  tent.  I  wish  to  talk  over  this  and  cer- 
tain other  matters  with  you,"  and  Captain  Fre- 


FREMONT'S  HAT  WAS  INSTANTLY  BURIED  DEEP  IN  THE  PILE  OF  HA'IS 


At  the  Buttes  223 

mont,  followed  by  the  men  he  had  named,  entered 
his  tent. 

"Say,  but  don't  I  wish  I  could  go  with  Merritt 
and  his  men!"  and  Thure  turned  a  face  glowing 
with  excitement  to  lola  the  moment  Fremont  and 
his  counselors  disappeared  in  the  tent.  "I'd  like  to 
help  capture  those  horses  on  which  General  Castro 
is  going  to  mount  men  and  drive  us  out  of  the  Val- 
ley. What  right  has  he  to  drive  us  out  of  the 
country?  We  settled  here  by  permission  of  the 
Mexicans  themselves  and  we  have  obeyed  the  Mex- 
ican laws.  If  they  did  not  want  us,  they  should 
not  have  let  us  settle  here  in  the  first  place.  Now, 
when  we've  bought  our  land  and  built  our  homes 
and  got  our  ranches  stocked  with  cattle  and  horses, 
this  General  Castro  is  going  to  drive  us  out  of  the 
country,  just  because  we  are  Americans,  and  take 
our  lands  and  cattle  and  horses.  The  old  robber! 
That  is  just  what  he  is;  and  that  is  just  what  the 
Mexican  government  is  that  is  backing  him  up  in 
this.  Yes,  I'd  like  to  help  capture  those  horses.  It 
will  serve  General  Castro  just  right ;  and  show  him 
that  we  Americans  are  not  broken  to  driving,"  and 
his  young  face  glowed  with  the  heat  of  his  indigna- 
tion at  what  appeared  to  him  the  injustice  and  des- 
potism of  General  Castro  and  the  Mexican  govern- 
ment toward  the  American  settlers. 

"But  Captain  Fremont  isn't  going  to  let  General 
Castro  or  anybody  else  rob  us  of  our  homes  and 


224  Fighting  With  Fremont 

drive  us  out  of  the  country,"  and  lola  nodded  her 
head  positively.  "I  know,  because  his  eyes  look  so 
true  and  determined.  Now,  I  think  we  had  better 
be  going  back  to  camp.  It  is  almost  sundown ;  and 
mother  will  worry,  if  we  are  not  back  before  dark." 

"I'd  like  to  wait  until  dad  and  the  others  come 
out  of  Fremont's  tent;  but  there  is  no  telling  when 
that  will  be;  and,  I  reckon,  mother  might  worry 
some,"  Thure  admitted  reluctantly,  as  he  turned  his 
face  camp  ward.  "I  knew  something  would  be  do- 
ing, when  Fremont  got  back,"  he  continued,  as  he 
and  lola  mounted  their  horses  and  galloped  off  to- 
ward their  camping-grounds. 

They  found  everything  in  order  at  the  camp, 
tents  up,  fires  burning,  supper  ready  to  serve  and 
the  women  folks  complaining  that  the  supper  would 
spoil,  if  the  men  did  not  get  back  soon  to  eat  it. 

When  Noel  Conroyal  returned  to  camp  a  couple 
of  hours  later,  he  at  once  called  Thure  to  him. 

"Captain  Fremont,"  he  said,  "wishes  to  send  a 
message  to  Captain  Sutter  at  Sutter's  Fort;  and 
you  have  been  chosen  to  carry  it.  You  will  go  with 
Merritt  and  his  men ;  and  stay  with  them  until  after 
they  have  captured  the  horses,  which  should  hap- 
pen somewhere  near  Sutter's.  Then  you  will  go 
direct  to  Sutter's  Fort,  and  deliver  your  message, 
and  let  him  know  how  the  effort  to  capture  the 
horses  turned  out.  Captain  Sutter  will  probably 
wish  to  send  a  message  back  to  Captain  Fremont. 
If  he  does,  you  are  to  wait  until  it  is  ready,  and 


At  the  Buttes  225 

then  return  with  it  to  Fremont  as  quickly  as  pos- 
sible. You  will  go  to  the  tent  of  Captain  Fremont 
the  first  thing  in  the  morning,  to  get  the  message 
and  your  final  instructions.  Is  this  all  clear,  my 
son?"  and  he  laid  one  hand  affectionately  on  Thure's 
shoulder  and  looked  down,  with  a  father's  just 
pride,  into  the  shining  eyes  and  glowing  face. 

"Yes,  dad,"  Thure  answered.     "I  will  be  ready." 

"Then  you  must  get  to  bed  at  once;  for  Merritt 
will  start  as  soon  as  it  is  light  enough  to  see  to 
travel.  So  off  to  your  blankets." 

But  before  rolling  himself  up  in  his  blankets, 
Thure  hurried  to  the  tent  where  lola  and  her 
mother  had  already  retired;  and,  opening  the  flap 
a  little,  called  his  sister's  name  softly. 

"What  is  it?"  and  lola  thrust  her  head  a  little 
ways  out  through  the  opening. 

"I  am  going  with  Merritt  and  his  men!"  Thure 
whispered,  triumph  and  gratification  in  every  note 
in  his  voice.  "I  am  to  take  a  message  from  Fre- 
mont to  Captain  Sutter ;  and  I  am  to  stay  with  Mer- 
ritt and  his  men  until  after  the  capture  of  the 
horses.  Dad  just  told  me." 

"Oh!  Do  be  careful  and  not  get  hurt,"  and 
Tola's  arms  were  around  Thure's  neck. 

"Sure,"  laughed  Thure.  "Now  good-by,  sis,  if 
I  don't  see  you  in  the  morning,"  and  he  gave  one 
of  her  plump  cheeks  a  quick  kiss  and  hurried  away 
to  his  "blankets." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  CAPTURE  OF  THE  HORSES 

'T'HURE  was  the  first  one  in  the  Conroyal  camp 
*  to  awaken  the  next  morning.  It  was  still 
dark ;  and,  as  he  stepped  outside  of  the  tent  in  which 
he  and  his  father  and  Frank  Holt  and  Dill  slept  to 
see  if  the  east  was  yet  beginning  to  lighten  with 
the  approaching  day,  he  was  surprised  to  find  a 
piece  of  white  paper  pinned  by  a  long  thorn  to  the 
outside  of  the  tent  near  the  opening.  In  a-  mo- 
ment the  paper  was  in  his  hand  and  he  was  hurry- 
ing to  the  still  glowing  coals  of  the  camp-fire,  to 
examine  the  paper  by  its  light.  The  paper  ap- 
peared to  be  cut  from  a  larger  sheet  and  was  about 
six  inches  square.  One  side  was  blank,  but,  on 
the  other  side,  Thure  read  these  words,  scrawled 
by  an  unpracticed  hand  across  the  center  of  the 
paper : 

"Padilla  never  forgets  or  forgives." 
There  was  no  signature. 

For  a  minute  Thure  stood  staring  at  the  paper, 
then  he  rushed  into  the  tent  and  awoke  his  father 
and  the  others;  and,  handing  the  paper  to  his 
father,  told  him  where  he  had  found  it  and  what 
was  written  on  it. 

226" 


The  Capture  of  the  Horses  227 

Conroyal  took  the  paper,  and,  hurrying  out  to  the 
fire,  carefully  examined  it. 

"Just  a  scare,  I  reckon/'  he  said,  as  he  dropped 
the  paper  into  the  fire  and  watched  it  burn.  "But 
do  not  say  anything  about  it  to  the  women  folks. 
They  would  worry  about  it,  and  would  think  some- 
thing terrible  had  happened  every  time  we  did  not 
get  into  camp  the  moment  they  expected  us.  You 
know  how  women  are,"  and  he  smiled,  but,  in  spite 
of  his  smile,  there  was  an  uneasy  look  in  his  eyes, 
as  he  turned  to  Thure  and  bade  him  go  and  get 
his  horse. 

Thure  started  off  on  the  run  after  his  horse ;  and, 
the  moment  he  was  out  of  hearing,  his  father's 
eyes  sought  the  faces  of  Frank  Holt  and  Dill  anx- 
iously. 

"What  do  you  make  out  of  it,  Frank?"  he  asked, 
the  uneasy  look  in  his  eyes  deepening. 

"That  a  ball  through  the  head  of  Padilla,  when 
we  had  him  in  our  power  and  good  reason  to  back 
the  shooting,  would  have  saved  us  a  lot  of  trouble," 
Holt  answered,  his  face  hardening.  "Them  words 
tell  us  that  the  skunk  is  camped  on  our  trail,  and 
is  watching  for  a  chance  to  get  even  for  that  cow- 
hiding  we  gave  him,  or  else  it's  a  Mexican  bluff, 
just  to  give  us  a  scare  and  to  make  us  uneasy.  I 
reckon  it's  a  little  of  both;  but  we  must  be  on  our 
guard." 

"That  is  about  the  way  I  look  at  it,"  Conroyal 
answered.  "I  am  not  afraid  of  Padilla  coming  out 


228  Fighting  With  Fremont 

in  the  open  to  do  us  any  harm.  He  is  too  great 
a  coward.  He  will  be  like  a  snake  in  the  grass, 
and  strike  only  when  he  thinks  his  own  hide  is 
safe.  Now,"  and  the  troubled  look  on  his  face 
deepened,  "I  wish  I  had  known  about  this  before 
I  told  Fremont  that  Thure  would  take  his  message 
to  Captain  Sutter.  He  will  be  obliged  to  make 
part  of  the  journey  alone;  and,  if  Padilla  is  on 
the  watch,  it  will  give  him  just  the  chance  he  is 
looking  for." 

"I  will  go  in  his  place,  dad,"  Dill  volunteered 
promptly. 

"No,  I've  given  my  word  to  Fremont  and  the 
boy  will  have  to  go;  and,  like  as  not,  I  am  making 
a  grizzly  out  of  a  coyote.  But  we  must  be  careful 
not  to  let  his  mother  hear  anything  about  this  pa- 
per, at  least  not  until  he  gets  back." 

"Thure  will  be  all  right  as  long  as  he  is  with 
Merritt,"  Holt  assured  him;  "and  I  will  tell  Mer- 
ritt  how  things  are,  and  he  will  see  that  someone 
goes  along  with  the  boy  to  the  fort,  so,  I  reckon, 
there  won't  be  any  special  danger.  Now,"  and  he 
glanced  toward  the  east,  where  the  first  light  of 
day  was  beginning  to  show,  "we  must  get  a  hustle 
on  us,  or  Thure  will  be  late  to  the  rendezvous. 
I'll  rout  out  the  cook  and  get  the  breakfast  going 
and  you  can  see  that  his  horse  and  outfit  are  all 
right." 

A  half  an  hour  later  Thure  had  eaten  his 
hastily-cooked  breakfast,  had  said  his  farewells  to 


The  Capture  of  the  Horses  229 

his  father  and  mother  and  the  rest,  including  lola, 
who  was  up  to  again  caution  him  to  be  careful  and 
to  kiss  him  good-by,  and,  accompanied  by  Frank 
Holt,  was  on  his  way  to  the  camp  of  Fremont. 

They  found  Fremont  standing  by  his  camp-fire 
in  front  of  his  tent.  He  had  his  message  ready, 
a  sealed  letter,  which,  with  a  word  or  two  of  cau- 
tion, he  handed  to  Thure  and  bade  him  deliver  it 
into  the  hands  of  Captain  Sutter  and  hasten  back 
with  his  reply.  With  the  message  safely  concealed 
inside  the  bosom  of  his  shirt,  Thure  again  mounted 
his  horse  and,  still  accompanied  by  his  Uncle  Frank, 
set  out  for  the  camp  of  Merritt. 

Merritt  and  his  twelve  men  were  nearly  ready 
to  mount  their  horses  and  be  off  when  Thure  and 
his  uncle  reached  the  camp.  Frank  Holt  at  once 
called  Merritt  a  little  to  one  side  and  told  him  of 
Padilla  and  his  threat,  and  asked  him  to  send  some- 
one along  with  Thure  when  he  left  him  to  go  to 
Sutter's  Fort.  This  Merritt  promised  to  do,  and 
also  to  be  on  the  lookout  for  stray  Mexicans,  and, 
if  he  caught  sight  of  Padilla,  to  "tickle  his  ribs 
with  a  rifle  bullet." 

The  first  red  banners  of  the  sun  were  just  be- 
ginning to  glow  ruddily  above  the  tops  of  the  east- 
ern mountains,  when  Merritt  gave  the  word  and 
the  little  band  of  veteran  frontiersmen  sprang  on 
the  backs  of  their  horses  and  started  southward  in 
quest  of  the  Mexicans  and  the  drove  of  horses  on 
which  General  Castro  proposed  to  mount  the  sol- 


230  Fighting  With  Fremont 

diers  who  were  to  drive  the  Americans  out  of  the 
country.  All  that  day  they  rode  steadily,  without 
seeing  a  human  being,  not  even  an  Indian  or  a 
Mexican;  and,  when  night  came,  they  camped  in 
the  depths  of  a  little  grove  of  trees  near  water ;  and, 
before  sunrise  the  next  morning,  were  again  rid- 
ing swiftly  southward. 

They  were  now  nearing  the  region  where  they 
expected  to  find  Lieutenant  Arce  and  the  horses, 
and  the  summit  of  every  rise  of  ground  was  cau- 
tiously approached  and  the  country  beyond  care- 
fully examined  for  a  sight  of  the  Mexicans  and 
the  horses;  and,  just  as  the  first  rays  of  the  sun 
shot  over  the  tops  of  the  mountains,  they  came 
within  sight  of  the  camp  of  the  Mexicans. 

The  camp  was  situated  in  a  little  grove  of  trees 
on  the  banks  of  a  small  stream  of  water.  The 
indolent  soldiers  still  lay  in  their  blankets,  appar- 
ently sound  asleep.  The  horses  were  quietly  feed- 
ing on  the  rich  grass  of  the  valley  a  short  distance 
away,  watched  over  by  a  drowsy  mounted  sentinel. 
Fortunately  a  little  detour  from  the  summit  of  the 
small  hill  from  which  the  camp  of  the  Mexicans 
had  been  first  seen,  would  place  the  woods  between 
the  careless  sentry  and  our  little  company  and  en- 
able them  to  steal  quietly  down  upon  the  camp  and 
practically  surround  it  unobserved. 

"Looks  as  if  they'd  knowed  we  were  a-comin* 
an*  had  planned  everything  so  as  tew  make  their 
.capture  sartjn  an'  easy,"  Merritt  chuckled,  as  his 


The  Capture  of  the  Horses  231 

keen  eyes  took  in  the  situation.  "Now  jest  follow 
me,  an'  make  your  hosses  walk  as  if  they  were 
a-treadin'  on  eggs,  when  we  git  near  th'  camp; 
an'  we'll  give  them  Mexies  'bout  th'  biggest  sur- 
prise they'll  ever  have  this  side  of  th'  Day  of  Judg- 
ment," and,  still  chuckling,  the  frontiersman  led 
his  men  around  back  of  the  hill,  until  they  had 
passed  behind  the  woods.  Then,  riding  two 
abreast  and  slowly,  so  as  to  make  as  little  noise 
as  possible,  he  led  them  over  the  hill  and  down 
toward  the  Mexican  camp. 

When  the  woods  were  reached,  Merritt  had  all 
the  men  dismount  and  carefully  tie  their  horses 
to  the  trees.  Then  all  began  a  slow  and  cautious 
advance  through  the  woods,  spreading  out  as  they 
did  so  in  such  a  manner  as  to  half  enclose  the 
Mexican  camp  by  the  time  they  came  to  it. 

The  soldiers  still  slumbered  in  their  blankets. 
The  drowsy  sentinel  still  sat  on  his  horse,  watch- 
ing his  charge,  unsuspicious  of  danger,  as,  silently 
as  shadows,  the  Americans  glided  from  tree  to  tree, 
from  point  to  point,  until  all  were  in  position,  where 
the  rifle  of  each  could  command  one  of  the  Mexi- 
cans. Then  Merritt  strode  a  few  steps  forward, 
until  he  stood  in  the  midst  of  the  Mexican  camp, 
and,  throwing  his  rifle  to  his  shoulder,  leveled  it  at 
the  sleeping  form  of  Lieutenant  Arce. 

"Hi,  thar!"  he  roared,  in  a  voice  that  made  the 
leaves  on  the  trees  tremble  and  brought  every  Mex- 
ican out  of  his  blanket  on  the  jump.  "Surrender; 


232  Fighting  With  Fremont 

or  we  will  shoot  tew  kill!  We've  got  every  man 
of  you  covered." 

For  one  astounded  moment,  the  Mexicans  stood, 
open-mouthed  and  sallow-faced,  staring  with  blink- 
ing eyes  at  the  leveled  barrels  of  the  rifles,  at  the 
grim-faced  deerskin-clothed  men  behind  them. 
Then  Lieutenant  Arce  turned  a  white  face  to  Mer- 
ritt. 

"We  surrender,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  that  he  tried 
in  vain  to  keep  from  trembling,  while  the  angry 
light  in  his  eyes  showed  that  he,  at  least,  would 
not  have  been  adverse  to  fighting,  had  he  been 
given  the  chance.  "We  nothing  less  can  do  with 
the  rifles  of  your  men  pointed  at  our  heads.  But, 
what  means  this  outrage  the  soldiers  of  Mexico 
against,  who  peaceably  march  through  their  own 
country?  Mexico  the  insult  shall  know,"  and  his 
tall  slim  form  swelled  with  indignation  and  out- 
raged pride. 

"Sartin,"  grinned  Merritt,  "send  in  your  report 
an'  tell  how  we  captured  you  all  snoozin'  in  your 
blankets.  Now,"  and  his  face  hardened,  "  'bout 
your  marchin'  peaceable-like  through  your  own 
country.  You  may  call  it  peaceable-like  tew  be 
a-threatenin'  tew  drive  all  us  Americans  out  of  th' 
country  an*  tew  be  a  drivin'  some  two  hundred 
hosses  tew  your  general  for  him  tew  put  soldiers 
on  their  backs  tew  do  th'  drivin'  out;  but  we  are 
here  tew  convince  you  'tain't  a  peaceable  occupa- 
shun,  not  by  a  woods  full  of  fightin'  grizzlys.  Just 


The  Capture  of  the  Horses  233 

let  General  Castro  try  the  drivin'  out  business  an' 
we'll  show  him  how  straight  th'  American  rifles 
shoot.  Now,  tew  git  down  tew  th'  present  business. 
We  ain't  aimin'  tew  harm  you  none,  that  is  if  you 
continue  in  your  peaceable-like  intentions;  but  we 
want  them  hosses  that  you  are  a-takin'  tew  Gen- 
eral Castro  for  him  tew  put  men  on  their  backs 
tew  drive  us  Americans  peaceable-like  out  of  th' 
country,  we  want  'em  so  bad  that  we  are  jest 
a-goin'  tew  take  'em;  an'  if  you've  got  any  objec- 
tions, you've  got  tew  speak  'em  out  quick.  Now, 
do  we  git  them  hosses  peaceable-like,  or  do  we  git 
'em  by  shootin'?  That's  th'  p'int." 

"I,  General  Castro,  Mexico  will  of  this  insult — " 
began  the  angry  officer. 

"Dry  up!"  roared  Merritt,  taking  a  quick  step 
toward  the  lieutenant.  "It's  th'  hosses  we  want, 
not  your  languages." 

"A  brigand  what  he  wants  takes,  at  the  rifle's 
mouth.  The  horses  are  yours,"  and,  with  a  mock- 
ing bow  and  a  wide  sweep  of  his  hands,  Lieutenant 
Arce  indicated  his  helplessness. 

There  was  no  more  time  wasted  in  talk.  The 
Mexican  soldiers  were  disarmed,  a  guard  set  over 
them;  and  then  Merritt,  with  his  remaining  men, 
mounted  their  horses  and  rounded  up  the  drove  of 
horses.  When  this  had  been  done,  Merritt  gal- 
loped back  to  where  the  Mexican  soldiers  stood  un- 
der guard. 

"Jest  tell  General  Castro,"  he  cried,  pulling  up 


234  Fighting  With  Fremont 

his  horse  in  front  of  Lieutenant  Arce,  "if  he  wants 
his  horses  back  tew  come  an'  git  'em.  He'll  find 
'em  at  th'  camp  of  Captain  Fremont;  an'  th'  Cap- 
tain '11  be  powerful  glad  tew  see  him.  Now,  we've 
left  each  one  on  you  a  hoss;  an'  you  are  at  liberty 
tew  git  back  tew  your  general  jest  as  fast  as  their 
legs'll  take  you.  Come  on,  men,"  and,  followed 
by  the  guard,  he  galloped  off  to  where  the  drove 
of  horses  were  already  being  driven  rapidly  north- 
ward. 

This  has  been  called  the  first  act  of  open  hostility 
in  the  conquest  of  California;  and  Fremont  has 
been  blamed  for  fathering  it.  But,  on  the  other 
hand,  there  are  those  who  think  that  the  publicly 
declared  purpose  of  General  Castro  to  use  these 
horses  to  mount  a  battalion  of  soldiers  for  the  ex- 
press purpose  of  driving  the  Americans  out  of 
California,  was,  in  itself,  a  sufficient  declaration 
of  hostility  to  justify  the  capture  of  the  horses. 
However,  whatever  the  right  or  the  wrong  of  the 
matter  may  be,  there  was  not  a  man  who  helped 
make  the  capture,  from  Merritt  down  to  Thure 
Conroyal,  who  did  not  believe  the  act  justified ;  and, 
consequently,  as  they  rode  off  with  the  horses,  there 
were  no  prickings  of  the  conscience,  only  jubila- 
tion over  the  fact  that  they  had  been  able  to  make 
the  capture  so  easily  and  safely. 

Thure,  during  the  excitement  of  the  raid  on  the 
Mexican  camp,  had  forgotten  his  mission;  but 


The  Capture  of  the  Horses  235 

now  that  the  horses  had  been  captured,  his  mind 
turned  to  Fremont's  message  and  its  delivery. 

"Captain  Merritt,"  he  said,  galloping  up  to  the 
side  of  the  leader  of  the  little  party,  "as  you  doubt- 
less know,  I  have  a  message  from  Captain  Fremont 
to  deliver  to  Captain  Sutter;  and  I  was  instructed 
to  deliver  it  as  soon  as  possible  after  the  horses 
had  been  captured.  Don't  you  think  I  had  better 
be  starting  for  Sutter's  Fort?  The  fort  can't  be 
more  than  ten  or  fifteen  miles  from  where  we  are; 
and  I  know  the  way  there  all  right." 

"Yes/'  agreed  Merritt,  "I  reckon  you  had  better 
be  on  your  way.  I'll  have  Hank  Martin  an'  Long 
Dave  ride  with  you ;  an'  if  you  are  right  smart  an* 
don't  loiter  none  at  Sutter's,  you  can  overtake  us 
afore  we  git  back  tew  Fremont's  camp.  I  reckon 
Fremont's  got  bigger  game  than  hosses  up  his 
sleeve,"  and  he  smiled  knowingly. 

Ten  minutes  later  Thure  and  Hank  Martin  and 
Long  Dave  were  on  their  way  to  Sutter's  Fort,  then 
one  of  the  best-known  settlements  in  the  Sacramento 
Valley ;  and,  at  the  end  of  an  hour,  they  had  topped 
the  last  hill  and  the  beautiful  park-like  valley, 
dotted  with  groves  of  evergreen  oaks  and  walled 
in  on  the  east  and  the  west  by  lofty  mountains,  in 
the  midst  of  which  Captain  John  A.  Sutter  had 
built  his  fort,  lay  before  them. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

(THE   LONE  RIFLE  SHOT 

'T'HE  Sacramento  Valley,  at  the  confluence  of  the 
*  Rio  de  los  Americanos,  as  the  American  River 
was  then  called,  and  the  Sacramento  River,  widens 
out  into  a  great  level  plain  that  stretches  almost 
as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach  to  the  north  and  to  the 
south  and  to  the  great  walls  of  mountains  on  the 
east  and  on  the  west.  Here,  in  1840,  came  John 
A.  Sutter;  and,  settling  near  the  juncture  of  the 
two  rivers,  built  what  has  since  been  known  to 
fame  as  Sutter's  Fort,  not  far  from  the  present 
site  of  the  City  of  Sacramento. 

John  A.  Sutter  was  of  Swiss  parentage,  born  at 
Baden;  but,  emigrating  to  the  United  States,  be- 
came a  citizen  of  this  country,  and,  finally  found 
his  adventurous  way  to  California  and  to  the  Sac- 
ramento Valley.  He  secured  a  large  grant  of  land 
from  the  Mexican  authorities,  built  a  strong  fort 
to  protect  himself  and  men  from  the  Indians,  and 
gathered  about  him  a  number  of  white  men  and  a 
great  many  Indians,  whom  he  employed  to  till  his 
great  fields  of  grain  and  herd  his  large  droves  of 
cattle  and  horses  and  to  do  tHe  other  labor  required 

236 


The  Lone  Rifle  Shot  237 

on  his  huge  rancho.  At  the  date  of  our  story, 
1846,  he  lived  here  like  a  king  in  his  kingdom,  a 
kingdom  in  a  wilderness,  dispensing  hospitality  to 
all  who  came;  and  nearly  everyone,  especially  if 
he  were  an  American,  who  came  to  California  in 
those  days  headed  straight  for  his  place. 

The  fort  itself  was  a  huge  open  parallelogram, 
some  five  hundred  feet  long  by  a  hundred  and  fifty 
feet  wide,  with  thick  walls  built  out  of  adobe  or 
sun-dried  bricks.  Near  the  center  of  the  enclosure 
thus  made  was  the  main  building,  the  residence  of 
Sutter  himself.  Along  the  inside  of  the  four  en- 
closing walls  were  rows  of  shops,  store-rooms,  bar- 
racks, etc.  Bastions  stood  at  the  outer  corners  of 
the  walls  and  were  armed  with  cannon,  so  placed 
as  to  sweep  in  all  directions.  Two  great  gates, 
very  strongly  built  and  defended  by  heavy  artillery 
protruding  threateningly  through  portholes  pierced 
in  the  walls,  gave  entrance  to  the  fort,  one  on  the 
east  side  and  the  other  on  the  south  side.  Armed 
sentries  always  stood  at  these  gates.  Some  fifty 
Indian  soldiers,  drilled  by  a  white  officer  every 
night  after  their  day's  work  was  done,  were  trained 
to  defend  the  place  in  time  of  need. 

Such  was  the  man,  John  A.  Sutter,  and  such  was 
the  fort  and  its  surroundings  that  Thure  Conroyal 
and  his  two  companions  were  now  approaching. 
They  rode  swiftly  across  the  valley,  and,  galloping 
up  to  the  south  gate,  asked  the  sentry  if  Captain 
Sutter  was  within. 


238  Fighting  With  Fremont 

"He  is,"  replied  the  sentry  and  swung  the  great 
gate  open  for  them  to  enter. 

Thure  had  been  to  Slitter's  Fort  several  times 
with  his  father  and  knew  Captain  Sutter;  and,  as 
he  passed  through  the  gate,  he  saw  the  Captain, 
accompanied  by  three  or  four  Indians  and  a  couple 
of  white  men,  walking  across  the  court  toward 
the  east  gate. 

"Captain  Sutter !"  he  called,  pulling  up  his  horse 
and  leaping  off  his  back,  "I  have  a  message  for 
you  from  Captain  Fremont,"  and,  taking  out  Fre- 
mont's letter,  he  hurried  toward  the  group  of  men. 

Captain  Sutter,  at  the  sound  of  his  name,  turned 
quickly  and  at  once  advanced  to  meet  Thure,  his 
kindly  face  smiling  a  welcome. 

"I  am  very  glad  to  see  you,  my  boy,"  he  said, 
as  he  gripped  Thure's  hand  in  a  warm  clasp. 
"And  how  is  the  father  and  the  mother  and  that 
black-eyed  sister  of  yours? — Ah,  you  have  a  mes- 
sage for  me  and  from  Captain  Fremont !  I  heard 
with  great  pleasure  of  the  return  of  Captain  Fre- 
mont. It  may  mean  much  to  us  Americans,"  and 
his  keen  eyes  brightened.  "Now,  if  you  will 
pardon  me,  I  will  read  the  letter.  I  am  anxious 
to  know  what  Captain  Fremont's  message  is,"  and, 
taking  the  letter  from  Thure's  hand,  he  quickly 
broke  the  seal  and  read  its  contents,  his  face  sober- 
ing and  a  frown  gathering  on  his  brows  as  he 
read. 


The  Lone  Rifle  Shot  239 

"Well,"  and  he  turned  abruptly  to  Thure,  a  look 
very  much  like  anger  on  his  face  and  in  his  eyes, 
"What  about  the  horses  ?  Did  you  capture  them  ?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  Thure  replied,  flushing  a  little. 

"Any  shooting?     Anyone  hurt?" 

"No,  sir.  We  surrounded  the  Mexicans  early 
this  morning,  while  they  were  yet  asleep  in  their 
blankets;  and  they  surrendered  without  the  firing 
of  a  gun." 

"What  was  done  with  the  soldiers?  Were  they 
held  prisoners?" 

"No,  sir.  Merritt  left  each  one  of  them  his  own 
horse,  taking  only  the  ones  belonging  to  the  gov- 
ernment, and  told  them  to  hurry  back  to  General 
Castro  and  tell  him  that,  if  he  wanted  the  other 
horses,  he  must  come  and  get  them." 

"I  am  glad  that  there  was  no  blood  shed,"  and 
Captain  Sutler's  face  cleared  a  little;  "and  that 
the  soldiers  were  not  made  prisoners.  But  I  do 
not  think  Captain  Fremont  ought  to  have  taken 
those  horses,  at  least  not  without  first  consulting 
with  me.  I  do  not  believe  that  General  Castro  ever 
thought  of  mounting  men  on  them  for  the  purpose 
of  driving  the  Americans  out  of  California." 

"But,"  interrupted  Thure,  his  face  whitening  a 
little  at  his  temerity.  "Mr.  Knight  told  Fremont 
that  he  himself  heard  Lieutenant  Arce  say  that 
General  Castro  intended  to  use  the  horses  to  mount 
soldiers  expressly  for  the  purpose  of  driving  us 


240  Fighting  With  Fremont 

out  of  the  Sacramento  Valley  and  that  then  he  in- 
tended to  fortify  the  Bear  River  pass  to  keep  all 
Americans  out  of  California." 

"Tut,  tut,  General  Castro  is  not  fool  enough  to 
think  that  he  could  drive  us  Americans  out  of  the 
Valley  with  a  couple  of  hundred  Mexican  soldiers. 
It  would  take .  a  thousand,  yes,  ten  thousand  of 
them!  But,  of  course,  Captain  Fremont  does  not 
know  all  this.  He  probably  has  done  what  he 
thought  was  for  the  best ;  and  then,"  and  the  frown 
left  his  face,  "Lieutenant  Gillespie  may  have 
brought  him  secret  instructions  from  the  govern- 
ment at  Washington.  Anyhow  the  thing  is  done 
now;  and,  my  boy,  it  means  war,  war  between  the 
Americans  and  those  loyal  to  Mexico,  it  means," 
and  his  eyes  shone,  "that  this  beautiful  country, 
the  most  beautiful  and  fertile  in  the  world,  will 
become  a  part  of  the  great  United  States — But, 
here  I  stand  talking,  and  there  you  and  your  horses 
stand,  wearied  with  your  long  journey.  Hi,  there ! 
Hello !  Peter,  Luke,  Mark  and  the  rest  of  the  apos- 
tles! You  rascals,  why  have  you  not  taken  the 
horses  of  my  friends,  who  have  journeyed  far  and 
fast?"  and  Captain  Sutter  began  scolding  vocifer- 
ously half  a  dozen  tall  Indian  boys,  who  now  ap- 
peared running  from  one  of  the  many  buildings  that 
lined  the  inner  side  of  the  walls  of  the  fort  and,  seiz- 
ing the  reins  of  their  horses,  hurried  off  with  them, 
as  if  anxious  to  get  out  of  the  reach  of  the  sounds 
of  that  angry  voice  as  quickly  as  possible. 


The  Lone  Rifle  Shot  241 

"The  young  rascals,"  and  Captain  Sutter  turned 
a  face  now  smiling  with  friendliness  and  hospitality 
to  Thure  and  his  two  companions,  "the  only  time 
they  are  ever  on  hand  without  calling  is  eating 
time.  But,  pardon  my  keeping  you  standing  here 
so  long.  I  got  a  little  excited  over  the  news. 
Now,  come  right  into  the  house  and  rest  your- 
selves," and  he  led  the  way  into  a  large  room, 
rudely  furnished  with  a  common  deal  table  and 
a  number  of  rough  benches,  evidently  the  dining- 
room. 

"Excuse  me,  Captain  Sutter,"  Thure  said,  as  he 
seated  himself  on  one  of  the  benches,  "but  will 
there  be  any  message  to  take  back  to  Captain  Fre- 
mont? If  there  is,  he  wished  me  to  hurry  back 
with  it  as  soon  as  possible;  and  Merritt  is  expect- 
ing us  to  overtake  him  before  night;  so  I  think 
we  had  better  be  going  as  soon  as  our  horses  have 
had  a  short  rest." 

"I'll  write  the  message  at  once,"  Captain  Sutter 
said,  "so  that  it  will  be  ready  whenever  you  are 
ready;  but  do  not  be  in  a  hurry  to  go,"  and,  going 
to  a  little  cupboard  built  in  the  wall  of  the  room, 
he  got  ink  and  pen  and  paper  and,  seating  himself 
at  the  table,  soon  had  his  answer  to  Fremont's 
message  ready. 

For  an  hour  Thure  and  his  two  companions  sat 
talking  with  Captain  Sutter.  They  found  him  in- 
tensely interested  in  the  outcome  of  the  trouble 
between  the  United  States  and  Mexico  and  hopeful 


242  Fighting  With  Fremont 

that  the  result  would  leave  California  in  the  pos- 
session of  the  United  States. 

"Why,"  he  declared,  "even  the  better  class  of 
Californians  themselves  are  disgusted  with  the  rule 
of  Mexico,  and  would  be  glad  to  see  the  coun- 
try come  into  the  possession  of  the  United  States 
or  England.  Yes,  sir,"  and  he  brought  his  broad 
hand  down  on  his  knee  with  a  resounding  slap, 
"it's  England  or  the  United  States!  And  now, 
thank  God,  it  begins  to  look  like  the  United  States ! 
There  is  more  back  of  Fremont's  return  than  we 
can  see.  I  am  told  that  his  father-in-law,  Senator 
Benton,  is  almost  the  power  behind  the  throne  at 
Washington;  and,  doubtless,  Lieutenant  Gillespie 
brought  him  secret  instructions  from  Washington 
that  has  caused  him  to  act  as  he  has.  He  did  not 
follow  him  into  the  depths  of  the  wilderness  for 
no  light  cause.  Still  I  wish  I  could  have  had  a 
talk  with  Captain  Fremont  before  he  precipitated 
matters  by  capturing  those  horses.  But,  however 
it  is  brought  about,  I  will  be  mightily  pleased  to 
see  the  stars  and  stripes  floating  over  this  won- 
derful country.  I  am  tired  of  Mexican  rule.  One 
can  never  tell  where  one  is  at  under  it,  with  a  revo- 
lution changing  the  laws  and  the  ruler  every  few 
months." 

"That  is  exactly  the  way  Dad  feels,"  Thure  as- 
serted. "He  says  that  a  change  of  rulers  is  the 
only  hope  for  the  country ;  and,  of  course,  he  wants 
that  change  to  mean  Uncle  Sam  for  us.  Now," 


THe  Lone  Rifle  Shot  243 

and  he  turned  to  Long  Dave  and  Hank  Martin,  his 
two  companions,  "don't  you  think  we  had  better 
be  going?" 

"I  reckon  so,"  answered  Long  Dave,  "if  we're 
tew  overtake  Merritt  afore  dark.  So  jest  have 
them  apostles  of  yourn  trot  out  our  horses,"  and 
he  turned  to  Captain  Sutter. 

"Sorry  that  you  must  be  going,"  and  the  hos- 
pitable Captain  rose  regretfully  and,  summoning 
the  tall  Indian  boys,  soon  had  their  horses  before 
the  door,  standing  ready  for  them  to  mount. 

"I'll  give  your  message  to  Captain  Fremont  as 
soon  as  I  reach  his  camp,"  Thure  said,  as  he  and 
his  two  companions  swung  themselves  up  into  their 
saddles. 

"And  tell  him,"  Captain  Sutter  spoke  in  a  low 
voice,  so  that  only  Thure  could  hear,  "that,  when 
we  Americans  know  that  war  has  been  declared 
between  the  United  States  and  Mexico,  he  will  find 
the  rifle  of  every  loyal  American  in  California 
back  of  him.  But  we  want  to  know  that  the 
United  States  will  support  us,  before  we  cast  our 
glove  into  the  face  of  Mexico.  We  are  hardly 
strong  enough  yet,"  and  his  face  clouded,  "to 
carry  a  revolution  through  to  a  successful  issue  on 
our  own  account.  That  is  why  this  horse  raid 
troubles  me,"  and  the  frown  on  his  face  deepened. 
"If  Fremont  has  acted  too  hastily,  it  will  be  a  pretty 
serious  business  for  us  Americans  in  California. 
But  he  must  have  had  secret  information  and  in- 


244  Fighting  With  Fremont 

structions.  Anyway  it  is  done  now,  and  we  must 
make  the  best  of  it.  Now,"  and  he  raised  his  voice, 
"be  on  your  guard  against  any  stray  bands  of 
Mexicans.  They'll  be  out  looking  for  revenge  as 
soon  as  they  hear  of  this  capture  of  the  horses; 
and  'twill  go  hard  with  the  first  Americans  who 
fall  into  their  hands." 

While  Captain  Sutter  had  been  speaking  they 
had  been  moving  slowly  toward  the  gates  of  the 
fort ;  and,  by  this  time,  they  had  reached  the  opened 
gates. 

"Thank  you,"  Thure  said.  "We  will  be  on  our 
guard.  Good-by,"  and  striking  spurs  into  their 
horses'  flanks,  he  and  his  two  comrades  galloped 
off. 

"A  safe  journey  to  you !"  Captain  Sutter  called 
after  them;  and  then  the  gates  of  the  fort  swung 
shut  and  the  strong  walls  hid  him  from  sight. 

"Do  you  think  that  we  can  now  overtake  Merritt 
before  night?"  Thure  asked,  as  he  settled  down  in 
his  saddle  for  the  long  ride. 

"Sartin,"  answered  Long  Dave.  "  'Twas  con- 
sider'ble  south  of  th'  fort  that  we  captured  th' 
hosses;  an*  drivin'  tew  hundred  hosses  ain't  no 
fast  work.  We  otter  come  up  with  'em  'bout  th' 
middle  of  th'  afternoon." 

For  many  miles  the  valley  lay  before  them  al- 
most as  level  as  a  floor  and  over  this  they  traveled 
swiftly;  but,  a  little  after  noon,  they  came  to  where 
the  going  was  rougher  and  the  rocks  of  the  moun- 


The  Lone  Rifle  Shot  245 

tain  sides  .came  down  close  to  the  valley.  At  one 
place  the  trail  passed  within  a  hundred  yards  of 
where  a  deep  wooded  ravine  split  its  way  through 
the  almost  precipitous  side  of  a  mountain. 

"That  would  be  a  mighty  good  place  for  an  am- 
bush," and  Long  Dave  pointed  his  finger  uneasily 
toward  the  piles  of  rocks  and  clumps  of  bushes  and 
trees  that  concealed  the  mouth  of  the  ravine. 
"Now,  if  some  of  our  Mexican  friends — " 

He  stopped  abruptly;  for,  at  that  instant,  just  as 
they  were  abreast  of  the  mouth  of  the  ravine,  a  puff 
of  smoke  shot  out  in  front  of  the  nearest  pile  of 
rocks,  the  report  of  a  rifle  sounded  in  their  ears, 
and  Thure,  with  a  startled  cry,  tumbled  forward  in 
his  saddle. 

"Git  out  of  this !"  yelled  Long  Dave,  digging  his 
spurs  into  his  horse. 

Thure,  clung  tremblingly  to  the  pommel  of  his 
saddle,  and  Hank  Martin  needed  no  urging  to  put 
as  great  a  distance  as  possible  as  speedily  as  pos- 
sible between  them  and  the  mouth  of  the  ravine; 
but  there  came  no  other  shot  and  their  anxious 
eyes  could  see  no  sign  of  movement  in  the  dark 
opening  of  the  ravine.  When  they  had  reached 
a  safe  distance  Long  Dave  pulled  up  his  horse. 

"Are  you  hit?"  and  he  turned  anxiously  to 
Thure,  who  still  clung  to  the  pommel  of  his  saddle, 
his  face  very  white. 

"I — I  think  so,"  stammered  the  boy,  straighten- 
ing up  in  his  saddle ;  "but  not  badly." 


246  Fighting  With  Fremont 

"Sufferin'  Moses,  but  that's  what  I  call  a  power- 
ful close  shave!"  and  Long  Dave  stared  in  aston- 
ishment at  the  back  of  Thure's  coat.  "Th'  ball  has 
cut  clean  across  the  back  of  your  coat  like  it  had 
been  done  with  a  sharp  knife!  Four  inches  more 
tew  th'  front  an'  you'd  a-ben  a  dead  one  at  this 
moment.  I  reckon  it  burnt  your  back  a  leetle?" 

"It  sure  did,"  and  the  blood  came  rushing  back 
into  Thure's  face.  "For  a  moment  I  thought  he'd 
got  me." 

"It  jest  broke  th'  skin  at  th'  tips  of  both  shoul- 
der-blades !  Now,  what  dew  you  think  of  that  for 
a  narrer  squeak?"  and  he  turned  to  Hank  Martin. 

"I  reckon  you  was  borned  tew  be  hanged, 
Thure,"  and  Hank  grinned,  "leastwise  shootin' 
don't  seem  tew  be  good  enough  for  you.  Now, 
who  could  have  fired  that  shot?  Th'  cowardly 
skunk! — By  thunder,  there  he  is  now!"  and  he 
pointed  excitedly  off  toward  the  mouth  of  the  ra- 
vine, just  as  a  man  jumped  up  on  top  of  the  pile 
of  rocks,  whence  the  shot  had  come,  and  began 
shaking  his  fist  threateningly  at  them. 

Both  men  instantly  spurred  their  horses  toward 
him;  but,  before  they  could  get  within  rifle-shot, 
he  leaped  down  from  the  rocks  and  vanished,  with 
a  derisive  yell,  in  the  bushes  and  trees  of  the  ra- 
vine. 

"Thar  might  be  a  dozen  or  more  in  thar,"  and 
Long  Dave  pulled  up  his  horse.  "I  reckon  we 


The  Lone  Rifle  Shot  247 

don't  care  none  'bout  investigatin'  that  thar  ravine, 
Hank!" 

''I  reckon  not,  Dave." 

As  the  two  men  turned  back,  Thure  asked  a  little 
excitedly:  "Did  you  recognize  that  man?" 

"No,"  Hank  answered.  "Only  'twas  a  cowardly 
skunk  of  a  Mexican." 

"I — I  think  I  know  who  it  was,"  and  Thure's 
eyes  glinted  angrily.  "I  am  not  absolutely  certain, 
but  I  am  quite  sure  it  was  Padilla,  the  Mexican 
dad  gave  a  horsewhipping  for  running  off  with 
lola.  At  least  he  looked  just  like  him  from  where 
I  was,  though  of  course  I  couldn't  see  his  features," 
and  then  he  told  the  two  men  the  story  of  his 
father's  trouble  with  Padilla  and  of  the  note  he  had 
found  pinned  to  the  tent  on  the  morning  of  their 
departure  from  the  camp  of  Fremont. 

"He's  th'  cur,"  Long  Dave  declared  decisively, 
when  Thure  had  finished  with  his  story.  "I  know 
that  Padilla,  an',  come  tew  think  on  it,  th'  man  on 
th'  rocks  did  look  a  sight  like  him.  If  I  was  your 
dad,  I'd  shoot  th'  cur  on  sight,  same  as  I  would  a 
p'isen  snake." 

Fortunately  Thure's  hurt  was  so  slight  that  it 
caused  him  no  other  inconvenience  than  a  stinging 
pain  at  the  points  of  his  shoulder-blades,  where  the 
bullet  had  clipped  off  a  piece  of  skin  about  the  size 
of  a  cent  from  each  shoulder,  and  did  not  interfere 
in  the  least  with  his  riding.  Consequently  they 


248  Fighting  With  Fremont 

at  once  continued  on  their  way  as  swiftly  as  the 
trail  would  permit  their  horses  to  travel;  and,  a 
little  before  sundown,  they  had  the  satisfaction  of 
overtaking  Merritt  and  his  men  just  as  they  were 
about  to  go  into  camp. 

The  next  day,  near  the  middle  of  the  afternoon, 
they  reached  the  camp  of  Fremont  with  the  cap- 
tured horses;  and  were  received  with  such  wild 
cheering  by  the  Americans  who  had  gathered  there 
that  the  horses  were  nearly  stampeded  with  fright. 

Thure  rode  direct  to  Captain  Fremont  and  gave 
him  Captain  Sutter's  message. 

Captain  Fremont  at  once  broke  the  seal  and  read 
the  letter;  and  Thure,  who  sat  on  his  horse  watch- 
ing him,  saw  his  face  darkening  with  a  frown  as 
he  read,  and  rightly  surmised  that  Captain  Sutter 
had  expressed  his  views  in  the  letter  concerning  the 
capture  of  the  horses  a  little  too  freely  to  please 
him.  However  Fremont  gave  no  voice  to  his  feel- 
ings, whatever  they  were;  but,  thanking  Thure 
for  the  faithful  discharge  of  his  duty,  told  him  that 
he  was  at  liberty  to  return  to  the  camp  of  his  father. 

In  the  meantime  a  great  crowd  of  excited  men 
had  gathered  around  Merritt,  who,  standing  on  a 
rock,  was  making  them  a  characteristic  speech ;  and 
Thure  on  his  way  back  to  the  home  camp  stopped 
for  a  few  minutes  to  listen  to  him  and  to  watch 
the  crowd.  Merritt  was  telling  them  that  now  that 
actual  hostilities  had  begun  the  Americans  must 
act  promptly,  that  the  advantage  in  a  fight  was  al- 


The  Lone  Rifle  Shot  249 

ways  with  the  one  who  got  in  the  hard  blows  first, 
that  they  must  not  wait  for  the  scattered  Mexican 
soldiers  to  gather  in  an  army  large  enough  to 
crush  them,  but  must  strike  them  in  details  while 
they  were  scattered,  and  his  suggestion  that  the 
next  blow  be  struck  at  Sonoma,  where  there  was  a 
small  garrison  of  Mexican  soldiers,  was  received 
with  a  great  shout  of  approval.  Thure  was  too 
anxious  to  get  back  to  camp  to  wait  to  hear  more ; 
but,  as  he  rode  away,  the  shouts  of  "On  to  Sonoma ! 
On  to  Sonoma!"  rang  in  his  ears. 

A  great  many  settlers  had  come  in  to  the  Fre- 
mont camp  during  Thure's  absence  and  among 
them  had  come  the  Randolph  family.  They  had 
pitched  their  camp  only  a  short  distance  from  the 
Conroyal  camp;  and  Thure  was  greatly  pleased  to 
find  Ruth  and  Bud  Randolph  with  lola  when  he 
rode  into  camp.  They  greeted  his  coming  with 
loud  shouts  of  welcome,  and  soon  he  was  in  the 
midst  of  an  excited  group,  made  up  of  the  three 
youngsters  and  the  women  folks,  with  the  servants 
in  the  background,  recounting  to  them  his  adven- 
tures during  the  past  three  days.  The  men  were 
all  at  Fremont's  camp. 

Thure  said  nothing  of  the  shot  from  the  ravine, 
not  wishing  to  frighten  his  mother ;  but,  just  as  he 
had  completed  his  narration,  the  sharp  eyes  of  Tola 
suddenly  spied  the  peculiar  rent  in  the  back  of  his 
coat. 

"What  is  this?"  she  cried,  as  her  quick  fingers 


250  Fighting  With  Fremont 

began  an  investigation  of  the  cut  in  the  garment. 

Thure  tried  to  wriggle  out  of  her  grasp;  but, 
before  he  could  do  so,  lola  uttered  a  startled 
scream. 

"O,  you  are  hurt!  Your  shoulders  are  all 
bloody!"  and  the  horrified  girl  nearly  fainted  at 
sight  of  the  blood  that  had  flowed  quite  freely  from 
the  two  small  wounds  on  Thure's  shoulders. 

"It's  nothing,  nothing  but  a  couple  of  scratches," 
declared  Thure  vehemently;  but  his  mother  would 
take  no  denials,  until,  with  trembling  fingers,  she 
had  examined  the  wounds  herself  and  assured  her- 
self that  they  were  really  harmless. 

Thure  now  had  to  tell  what  had  caused  the  cut 
in  the  back  of  his  coat  and  the  wounds  on  his  shoul- 
der-blades; and  he  had  just  finished  the  telling, 
when  his  father,  accompanied  by  Frank  Holt  and 
Rex  and  Dill  and  Hammer  Jones,  hurried  up. 

"What  is  this  I  hear  about  your  being  shot  at 
by  Padilla?"  demanded  Conroyal,  the  moment  he 
caught  sight  of  Thure.  "Let  me  see  your  back," 
and,  catching  hold  of  Thure,  he  examined  the  bullet 
marks  with  angry  eyes  and  a  whitening  face.  "It's 
just  as  Long  Dave  said,  four  inches  more  to  the 
front  and  he'd  have  got  my  boy !" 

"We  otter  have  shot  th'  skunk,  when  we  had  him 
in  our  power,"  and  Hammer  Jones  shook  his  head 
regretfully.  "  'Twould  have  saved  us  a  deal  of 
worry.  Thar's  only  one  safe  way  of  dealin'  with 
that  kind  of  a  bad  Mexican,  an'  that's  th'  lead  an' 


The  Lone  Rifle  Shot  251 

powder  way.  But,  thar  ain't  no  use  of  lookin'  for 
cream  after  th'  milk  is  spilt.  Th'  thing  tew  dew 
now  is  tew  be  sure  an'  git  th'  first  shot,  th'  next 
time  any  on  us  sees  Padilla." 

"You  are  right,  Ham,"  and  Noel  Conroyal's  face 
hardened.  "This  cowardly  shot  at  a  boy  has  for- 
feited all  of  Padilla's  rights  to  live.  I  will  shoot 
him  at  sight,  the  same  as  I  would  a  mad  dog,  since 
it  is  impossible  to  bring  him  to  justice  otherwise  in 
the  present  troubled  condition  of  affairs.  Thank 
God,  there  is  good  reason  to  hope  that  the  Mexican 
rule  in  California  is  nearing  its  end!  Merritt  and 
a  party  of  settlers  are  to  undertake  the  capture  of 
Sonoma  to-morrow.  This  means  that  the  conquest 
of  California  has  begun,  means  that  soon  we  will 
be  living  again  under  the  dear  old  stars  and  stripes ; 
for  I  am  sure  that  Fremont,  the  United  States,  is 
back  of  all  this  sudden  activity,  though  Fremont 
will  take  no  active  part  in  it  himself  or  allow  his 
men  to  do  so." 

"Do  you — do  you  think  there  will  be  any  fighting 
in  Sonoma?"  Thure  asked,  an  anxious  note  in  his 
voice.  "You  know  we  have  a  lot  of  friends  living 
there,  and  some  of  them  are  Californians — Miguel 
Vallejo  and  a  number  of  others." 

"No,  I  do  not  think  there  will  be  any  fighting," 
his  father  answered.  "General  Vallejo,  who  is  in 
command  there,  has  always  been  a  good  friend  of 
us  Americans,  and  has  long  felt  that  it  would  be 
good  for  California  to  come  under  the  control  of 


252  Fighting  With  Fremont 

the  United  States ;  and  I  do  not  think  he  would  care 
to  offer  any  resistance,  even  if  he  were  strong 
enough  to  do  so,  which,  with  the  present  weak  gar- 
rison at  Sonoma,  he  is  not.  Anyhow  our  friends, 
all  non-combatants,  will  be  safe  and  no  private 
property  is  to  be  taken  or  destroyed.  Dill  and  I 
are  going  along  and  we  will  be  on  the  lookout  for 
them." 

"Can  I  go  with  you?  Please,  father,  let  me  go 
with  you!  I — I  am  almost  as  big  as  a  man,  and 
I  want  to  do  something  to  help  win  California  for 
the  United  States.  Please  let  me  go,"  and,  in  his 
eagerness,  Thure  caught  hold  of  his  father's  arm 
and  looked  up  so  pleadingly  into  his  face  that  Con- 
royal,  who  could  yet  look  at  things  from  a  boy's 
point  of  view,  yielded.  Besides  he  felt  that  there 
would  be  little  danger  and  that  it  would  do  the  boy 
good  to  witness  these  stirring  scenes,  when  history 
was  being  made  for  California. 

"I  reckon  it  will  be  all  right  to  let  the  boy  go, 
mother,"  and  he  turned  to  Mrs.  Conroyal.  "There 
is  not  likely  to  be  any  fighting;  and  I  will  keep  my 
eye  on  him." 

"Hurrah!"  yelled  Thure,  jumping  to  his  feet 
and  swinging  his  hat  around  his  head,  not  waiting 
to  hear  what  his  mother  said,  "I  am  going  to  help 
capture  Sonoma!  Say,"  and  he  turned  quickly  to 
Bud  Randolph,  "just  scoot  over  to  your  camp  and 
ask  your  dad  if  you  can't  go  along,  too." 

"Sure!"  and  Bud  jumped  to  his  feet  and  started 


The  Lone  Rifle  Shot  253 

like  a  tow-headed  streak  of  dun-colored  lightning 
for  the  Randolph  camp.  In  ten  minutes  he  came 
running  back,  swinging  his  hat  and  hip-hurrahing 
excitedly. 

"I  can  go !"  he  shouted,  as  he  dashed  panting  up 
to  where  Thure  stood.  "Dad  is  going  and  he  says 
I  can  go  with  him.  Now  I  must  go  right  straight 
back  to  camp.  Dad  wants  me  to  help  him  get 
ready.  See  you  in  the  morning.  Hurrah  for 
Sonoma!"  and  he  was  off  on  the  run  for  his  own 
camp  again. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

SONOMA 

SONOMA,  at  that  date,  was  but  a  small  town, 
recently  founded  by  General  Vallejo  near  the 
site  of  one  of  the  old  missions  in  a  beautiful  valley 
some  fourteen  miles  from  the  northern  shore  of  the 
Bay  of  San  Francisco;  and  was  the  home  and  the 
military  headquarters  of  its  founder,  General  Ma- 
riano Guadalupe  Vallejo,  military  commander  of 
all  the  Mexican  Territory  north  of  Monterey. 
The  Mexican  authorities  had  established  a  small 
military  post  here,  which,  at  that  time,  was  gar- 
risoned by  a  few  poorly  equipped  Mexican  soldiers. 

The  Americans  were  quick  to  see  the  advantage 
that  the  capture  of  General  Vallejo  and  his  military 
headquarters  would  give  them;  and,  acting  with 
the  usual  American  promptness,  had  organized  the 
expedition,  in  the  manner  already  narrated  in  the 
preceding  chapter,  to  effect  the  capture,  the  mo- 
ment the  action  of  General  Castro  and  the  taking 
of  the  Mexican  horses  by  Merritt  made  it  certain 
that  Hostilities  were  about  to  begin. 

When  Thure  and  his  father  and  Dill  reached  the 
camp  of  Merritt  early  the  next  morning,  they  found 
some  thirty  men  already  assembled  there,  ready 
254 


Sonoma  255 

to  start  for  Sonoma;  and  a  rougher-looking  set  of 
men  Thure  thought  that  he  had  never  seen.  The 
majority  of  them  were  hunters,  men  who  cared 
little  for  their  personal  appearance,  who  let  their 
hair  and  beard  grow  long  and  who  dressed  in  buck- 
skin clothes,  usually  of  their  own  rude  tailoring. 
But  Thure  knew  that  braver  men  than  these  never 
lived  and  that  their  roughness  and  uncouthness 
were  only  skin  deep. 

Bud  Randolph  and  his  father  were  already  at 
the  rendezvous;  and  the  two  boys  got  together  at 
once. 

"Look!"  exclaimed  Bud,  almost  the  moment  the 
boys  met.  "Merritt  is  getting  ready  to  get  on  his 
horse,  so  I  reckon  we  are  about  to  start." 

"Yes,  it's  now  for  Sonoma  and  a  free  Cali- 
fornia !"  and  Thure's  eyes  sparkled. 

"Everybody  ready  ?"  shouted  Merritt  at  this  mo- 
ment, leaping  into  his  saddle. 

"Yes,"  answered  a  dozen  tongues. 

"Then,  on  for  Sonoma !"  and  he  struck  the  spurs 
into  his  horse's  flanks  and,  followed  by  some  thirty- 
three  men,  galloped  off  in  the  direction  of  Sonoma, 
accompanied  by  the  cheers  of  Fremont's  men  and  the 
loud  shouts  of  the  settlers,  who  continued  to  cheer 
and  shout  and  wave  their  hats  until  the  cavalcade 
had  passed  from  sight  over  the  brow  of  a  little  hill 
a  mile  or  more  away. 

The  ride  to  Sonoma  was  a  long  one,  but  all  the 
riders  were  hardened  horsemen,  and  there  was  no 


256  Fighting  With  Fremont 

lagging.  All  of  that  day  and  all  of  the  next  day 
they  rode  steadily  southward;  and  then,  a  little  be- 
fore sundown  on  the  second  day,  Merritt  pulled  up 
his  horse  and  pointed  toward  a  distant  range  of 
low-lying  hills. 

"Sonoma,"  he  said,  "lies  jest  about  a  couple  of 
miles  beyond  them  hills,  somethin'  atween  eight  an' 
ten  miles  from  whar  we  be.  Now,  I  reckon,  we'd 
better  camp  right  here  an'  have  a  good  night's  rest 
afore  we  tackle  th'  Mexicans.  Then  we'll  feel 
fresh  an'  chipper  an*  ready  tew  fight,  if  we  must; 
an',  if  we  make  an  early  start,  I  reckon  we  can  get 
thar  afore  th'  lazy  Mexicans  are  up  an'  can  take 
them  by  surprise.  Leastwise  that's  th'  way  it 
'pears  tew  me,"  and  he  glanced  at  the  faces  of  his 
men,  and,  seeing  nothing  but  approval  of  his  sug- 
gestion there,  jumped  off  the  back  of  his  horse. 
The  tired  men  gladly  followed  his  example,  and  the 
camp  for  the  night  was  made  then  and  there. 

Thure  and  Bud  slept  side  by  side  that  night ;  and 
it  seemed  to  both  tired  lads  as  if  they  had  hardly 
closed  their  eyes,  when  they  were  rudely  shaken 
out  of  their  sleep  by  strong  hands  gripping  them 
by  the  shoulders. 

"Come,  turn  out,  if  you  are  going  to  Sonoma 
with  the  rest  of  us,  both  of  you,"  and  Noel  Con- 
royal,  a  hand  gripping  the  shirt  collar  of  each  boy, 
suddenly  jerked  them  out  of  their  blankets  and 
stood  them,  winking  and  blinking  and  rubbing 
their  eyes,  on  their  feet. 


Sonoma  257 

The  camp  was  already  astir.  The  fires  were 
crackling  and  blazing,  the  coffee  pots  were  boiling 
and  the  meat  roasting  and  the  horses  were  being 
saddled  and  bridled  and  all  the  varied  activities 
of  the  camp  were  in  motion.  The  day  was  yet 
dark,  only  a  faint  light  showed  in  the  east,  and  the 
chill  of  night  was  still  in  the  air. 

"Well,  if  we  ar'n't  sleepyheads!"  Thure  ex- 
claimed disgustedly,  the  moment  his  eyes  had  taken 
in  this  scene  of  picturesque  activity. 

"Sure,"  laughed  Bud.  "Now,  let's  see  who  can 
get  the  sleepyseeds  out  of  his  eyes  first,"  and  he 
started  on  the  run  for  the  small  stream  of  water 
that  flowed  by  the  camp. 

There  was  no  lagging  in  camp  that  morning. 
The  men,  refreshed  by  their  night's  rest,  were  in 
high  spirits,  and  everyone  was  anxious  to  get  to 
Sonoma  as  quickly  as  possible.  Accordingly,  as 
soon  as  the  hastily  prepared  breakfast  was  eaten, 
Merritt  gave  the  word  and  the  men  swung  them- 
selves up  on  the  backs  of  their  horses  and  the  march 
on  Sonoma  was  resumed. 

"I  hope  there  won't  be  any  fighting,"  Thure  said, 
as  the  two  boys  galloped  along  side  by  side  through 
the  cool  morning  air.  "We  have  so  many  friends 
in  Sonoma ;  and  it  would  be  terrible  if — if,"  he  hes- 
itated, "if  some  of  them  should  get  hurt  and  maybe 
by  our  own  bullets.  I  hope  Miguel  Vallejo  and  his 
folks  won't  take  sides  against  us.  It  would  seem 
awful  to  have  to  fight  one's  own  friends.  I  hope 


258  Fighting  With  Fremont 

the  town  will  surrender  without  any  fighting,"  and 
his  face  paled  a  little  at  the  thought  of  what  a  fight 
at  Sonoma  might  mean. 

"But,  if  the  Mexicans  refuse  to  surrender,  then 
we  will  have  to  fight  them,"  Bud  declared.  "And, 
if  our  friends  get  on  the  wrong  side,  then  our 
friends  will  be  to  blame  for  their  own  hurts,  if  they 
get  any.  However,  I  don't  think  there  will  be  any 
fighting.  I  know  Merritt  and  most  of  the  men 
expect  to  take  the  town  without  firing  a  shot. 
They  are  counting  quite  a  little  on  the  friendliness 
of  General  Vallejo  to  the  Americans  and  the  weak- 
ness of  the  garrison.  They  are  not  in  any  condi- 
tion to  resist,  especially  if  we  take  them  by  surprise. 
I  know,  because  I  heard  Merritt  and  some  of  the 
men  talking  it  over  just  before  we  left  Fremont's 
camp ;  and  Merritt,  while  he  did  not  say  so  out  and 
out,  gave  the  men  to  understand  that  Captain  Fre- 
mont was  really  back  of  the  movement  and  that  the 
United  States  was  back  of  Fremont.  All  the  men 
seem  to  think  that  Lieutenant  Gillespie  brought 
Fremont  secret  instructions  from  his  government 
to  begin  hostilities  the  moment  the  Mexicans  gave 
him  the  slightest  grounds  to  do  so,  and  that  Fre- 
mont knows  that  war  must  have  begun  before  this 
between  the  United  States  and  Mexico,  although 
no  news  of  the  outbreak  of  war  has  yet  reached  us." 

"Yes,  that's  the  way  dad  and  Hammer  Jones 
and  Rex  think,"  Thure  agreed.  "But  Captain 
Sutter  thinks  that  Fremont  has  been  in  too  much 


Sonoma  259 

of  a  hurry,  that,  if  it  should  turn  out  that  war  had 
not  begun  between  the  United  States  and  Mexico, 
it  would  go  hard  with  us  Americans  in  California. 
But  I  am  sure  that  Captain  Fremont  knows  ex- 
actly what  he  is  doing;  and  that  everything  will 
come  out  all  right  in  the  end.  He  is  not  the  kind 
of  a  man  to  make  mistakes  of  this  kind.  When 
we  were  in  the  woods  he  seemed  to  be  always  think- 
ing and  planning  something,  and,  I  reckon,  this  is 
what  he  was  thinking  and  planning  about.  Any- 
how the  thing  is  started  now,  and  we  have  all  got 
to  make  the  best  of  it." 

By  this  time  the  cavalcade  had  reached  the  foot 
of  the  hills  that  lay  between  them  and  Sonoma ;  and 
here  Merritt  called  a  halt,  while  he  and  Noel  Con- 
royal  and  a  number  of  his  best  men  dismounted 
and  crept  up  to  the  top  of  the  hills  to  reconnoiter. 
In  a  few  moments  they  returned  and  reported  the 
town  evidently  still  asleep ;  for  the  sun  had  but  just 
risen  above  the  tops  of  the  eastern  mountains,  and 
the  Mexicans  are  not  early  risers. 

Sonoma  is  immediately  surrounded  by  a  nearly 
level  plain,  which  offers  little  concealment  to  an 
approaching  body  of  men;  but,  fortunately  for  our 
friends,  at  the  date  of  our  story,  this  plain  was 
dotted  here  and  there  with  small  groves  of  trees. 
One  of  these  groves  lay  almost  directly  between 
them  and  the  town,  a  fact  which  the  keen  eyes  of 
Merritt  and  his  men  were  quick  to  note. 

"Th'  town's  not  more'n  tew  miles  from  th'  top 


260  Fighting  With  Fremont 

of  the  hill,"  Merritt  explained  to  his  men,  as  they 
crowded  around  him;  "an'  atween  th'  town  an'  th' 
hill  th'  good  Lord  has  caused  tew  grow  up  a  grove 
of  trees,  ahind  which  we  can  safely  approach  th' 
town  tew  within  three  or  four  hundred  yards. 
Now,  my  idee  is  tew  ride  up  cautious-like  ahind 
that  grove;  an'  charge  from  thar,  like  a  herd  of 
stampedin'  buffalos,  right  down  upon  th'  town  as 
fast  as  our  horses'  legs  can  take  us.  I  reckon 
we'll  be  in  th'  town  an'  have  the  Mexicans  covered 
with  our  guns  afore  any  on  'em  wakes  up  sufficient 
to  think  of  shootin'.  Any  one  got  any  better 
plan?"  and  he  glanced  swiftly  over  the  faces  of 
his  men. 

"We're  satisfied  with  yourn,"  volunteered  one  of 
the  men.  "Now  let  us  git  a-goin'." 

"Good.  Jest  fall  in  tew  abreast  ahind  me,"  and 
Merritt  led  the  way  up  the  hill  and  down  into  the 
valley  on  the  other  side,  being  careful  to  keep  the 
grove  of  trees  between  them  and  the  town  all  the 
time. 

When  the  grove  was  reached,  he  again  halted  his 
men,  and,  for  a  few  minutes,  all  sat  silent  on  their 
horses  listening  intently.  Not  a  sound  could  they 
hear  from  the  still  apparently  sleeping  town. 

"Now,  remember,"  and  Merritt  spoke  sternly, 
"thar's  tew  be  no  shootin',  unless  th'  Mexies  start 
it,  an'  then  you're  tew  shoot  tew  kill ;  an'  thar's  tew 
be  no  disturbin'  private  persons  or  property. 


Sonoma  261 

Now,  we'll  divide  an'  charge  'round  both  sides  of 
th'  grove  tew  once  an'  come  tewgether  on  th'  other 
side.  Conroyal,  you  lead  th'  men  round  th'  right 
side  an'  I'll  take  'em  'round  th'  left  side." 

The  men  were  now  quickly  divided  into  two  com- 
panies, with  Merritt  at  the  head  of  the  one  and 
Noel  Conroyal  at  the  head  of  the  other. 

"Charge!"  cried  Merritt;  and  the  two  companies 
swung  round  the  grove  and  out  into  the  open  in 
front  of  Sonoma,  and  then,  uniting,  swept  on  in 
full  gallop  toward  the  town.  No  one  cheered,  no 
one  spoke;  and  the  first  thing  to  tell  the  Mexicans 
that  they  were  coming  was  the  sound  of  the  thud- 
ding of  their  horses'  hoofs,  as  they  rushed  through 
the  streets  of  the  town  and  on  into  the  plaza  pub- 
lica,  or  public  square,  around  which,  as  in  nearly 
all  Mexican  towns,  most  of  the  buildings  were 
erected. 

"Halt!  Form  in  lines  facin'  th'  four  sides  of 
th'  plaza !"  shouted  Merritt,  the  moment  the  square 
was  reached. 

When  the  startled  soldiers  and  the  equally 
startled  citizens  rushed  to  their  doors  and  windows, 
they  saw  a  line  of  stern-faced  rifle-armed  men  fac- 
ing them,  sitting  on  panting  foam-covered  horses, 
with  every  rifle  cocked  and  held  ready  for  instant 
use. 

There  was  no  resistance  offered.  The  surprise 
was  too  thorough  and  too  complete. 


262  Fighting  With  Fremont 

General  Vallejo,  at  the  sound  of  the  trampirigs 
of  the  horses  and  the  voices  of  the  men  in  the  plaza, 
hurried  to  the  door  of  his  house. 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  this?  Why  these 
armed  men?"  he  asked,  glancing  over  the  rough- 
looking  company  of  armed  horsemen,  with  eyes 
sparkling  with  indignation.  "Why  have  you  come 
charging  into  a  peaceable  town  in  this  rough  and 
threatening  manner?  What  is  it  you  wish? 
Have  you  taken  the  town?"  and  his  angry  eyes 
turned  to  Merritt,  sitting  on  his  horse  almost  di- 
rectly in  front  of  him. 

"I  reckon  we  have,  General,"  Merritt  answered 
tersely. 

Without  a  word  General  Vallejo  turned  and  en- 
tered the  house.  In  a  couple  of  minutes  he  re- 
turned, his  sword  girded  to  his  side  which  he  of- 
fered to  Merritt  in  token  of  surrender. 

"Keep  your  sword,  General,"  and  Merritt  waved 
the  weapon  back.  "Your  word  is  good  enough  for 
us.  You  an'  your  officers  an*  soldiers  are  our 
prisoners,  prisoners  of  war.  Now,  we  want  a  talk 
with  you  an'  your  officers,  General." 

"My  poor  house  is  at  your  service,"  and  General 
Vallejo  bowed  courteously.  "You  and  your  men 
can  enter  and  we  will  hold  a  council,  a  council  of 
war,  shall  we  call  it?"  and  the  General  smiled  iron- 
ically. 

"You  and  Knight  come  with  me,"  and  Merritt, 
turning  to  a  tall  man  sitting  on  a  horse  near  him, 


Sonoma  263 

dismounted,  and,  accompanied  by  the  two  men  he 
had  indicated,  entered  the  house  with  General  Val- 
lejo,  who  received  them  with  courtesy  and  instantly 
despatched  messengers  to  summon  to  his  house  the 
other  Mexican  officers  who  were  in  the  town. 

"Great  Christmas,  but  isn't  he  tall!"  Bud  ex- 
claimed, as  the  tall  man  dismounted  and  straight- 
ened himself  up  preparatory  to  entering  the  house 
with  Merritt.  "Why,  he  must  be  seven  feet  high ! 
Who  is  he?"  and  his  eyes  followed  the  tall  form 
into  the  house  with  wondering  admiration. 

"What!  Don't  you  know  who  he  is?"  and 
Thure  looked  his  surprise.  "I  thought  everybody 
around  here  knew  Doctor  Robert  Semple,  the  tall- 
est man  in  California.  He  is  educated  and  can 
talk  almost  as  well  as  a  minister ;  but  he  likes  to  go 
around  dressed  like  a  hunter  in  buckskin,  with  a 
foxskin  cap  on  his  head  and  a  rifle  in  his  hand. 
They  do  say  that  he  can  shoot  straight,  too." 

"He's  the  tallest  man  I  ever  saw,"  Bud  declared, 
as  the  object  of  his  admiration  disappeared  in  the 
house.  "Is  he  a  sure-enough  doctor?" 

"I  reckon  so,"  Thure  replied. 

"Well,  I  hope  I  never  fall  into  his  hands,"  Bud 
exclaimed  so  fervently  that  Thure  laughed. 

The  Americans,  now  that  Sonoma  had  surrend- 
ered, relaxed  their  vigilance  and,  dismounting, 
gathered  in  groups  in  different  parts  of  the  plaza, 
while  a  number  of  the  bolder  Mexicans  gathered 
curiously  around  each  group. 


264  Fighting  With  Fremont 

"I  wonder  where  Miguel  is,"  Thure  said,  as  the 
boys  dismounted  and  led  their  horses  toward  the 
group  where  their  fathers  were  standing.  "I  have 
been  trying  to  catch  sight  of  him  ever  since  we  en- 
tered the  plaza.  I  should  think  all  this  excitement 
would  bring  him  out." 

"There,  there  he  is  now !"  exclaimed  Bud,  point- 
ing to  one  of  the  windows  in  the  Vallejo  house. 
"Hello!  Hello!  Vallejo,  hello!"  and  both  boys  be- 
gan waving  their  hands  and  beckoning  to  young 
Vallejo  to  come  out  where  they  were. 

"I  can't,"  he  called  back;  "but  you  can  come  in 
and  see  me." 

"Can  we?"  and  both  boys  turned  eagerly  to  their 
fathers,  who  willingly  gave  them  permission  when 
they  understood  what  it  was  that  they  wanted. 

Miguel  Vallejo  opened  the  door  for  his  two 
young  friends.  There  was  an  anxious  questioning 
look  on  his  face,  as  he  hurriedly  conducted  them  to 
a  large  room  in  the  back  part  of  the  house. 

"Now,"  and  his  dark  face  and  eyes  glowed  with 
excitement,  as  he  spoke,  "quickly  tell  me  what 
means  this  coming  of  you  armed  Americanos  into 
our  quiet  little  town.  Why  have  you  made  pris- 
oners of  our  General  and  his  officers  and  his  sol- 
diers? Is  it  that  war  has  been  declared  between 
the  United  States  and  Mexico?  We  are  friends. 
You  can  speak  freely;  for  glad  will  I  be  if  the 
great  United  States  is  to  rule  our  beautiful  Cali- 


Sonoma  265 

fornia;  and  I  know  that  General  Vallejo  and  my 
father  and  many  of  the  best  people  among  the  Cali- 
fornians  really  feel  the  same  way.  I  know;  I  have 
heard  them  talk." 

"No,  we  do  not  know  that  war  has  been  declared 
between  the  United  States  and  Mexico,"  Thure  an- 
swered, a  little  hesitatingly.  "We — we  just — " 

And  then  the  door  of  the  room  opened  and  Gen- 
eral Vallejo,  accompanied  by  a  number  of  his  offi- 
cers and  the  Americans,  Merritt,  Semple  and 
Knight,  entered  the  room;  and  Thure  was  spared 
the  embarrassment  of  attempting  further  to  answer 
the  rather  difficult  questions  propounded  by  his 
young  Californian  friend. 

General  Vallejo  smiled  and  nodded  to  Thure  and 
Bud  and  Miguel;  but  he  did  not  order  them  from 
the  room,  as  the  boys  feared  that  he  might;  and, 
consequently,  taking  it  for  granted  that  they  were 
to  be  permitted  to  remain,  they  retreated  to  the 
farther  end  of  the  room  and,  seating  themselves 
upon  a  bench,  watched  what  followed  with  the 
greatest  of  interest. 

Near  the  center  of  the  room  was  a  large  table, 
with  a  number  of  chairs  around  it;  and  around 
this  table  General  Vallejo  and  the  men  with  him 
seated  themselves;  and  then  General  Vallejo,  sum- 
moning his  servants,  ordered  refreshments  brought. 

"We  will  drink  to  each  other's  good  health,"  he 
said  courteously,  as  the  refreshments  were  brought 


266  Fighting  With  Fremont 

into  the  room  and  placed  on  the  table;  "and  thus 
come  to  the  task  before  us  with  refreshed  minds 
and  bodies." 

As  they  were  about  to  raise  their  glasses  to  their 
lips  the  door  of  the  room  opened  again  and  a  Mexi- 
can officer  hurried  in.  At  the  sight  of  this  officer 
Merritt  set  his  glass  down  so  abruptly  that  its  loud 
thud,  as  it  came  in  contact  with  the  table,  startled 
all  in  the  room  and  caused  every  eye  to  turn  in 
his  direction.  He  was  glaring  at  the  officer,  who 
had  stopped  midway  to  the  table,  with  eyes  that 
glinted  the  wrath  within,  while  his  right  hand  had 
clenched  itself  so  tightly  that  the  knuckles  showed 
white  and  hard.  For  a  moment  he  looked  as  if  he 
were  about  to  hurl  himself  upon  the  officer  and 
strike  him  down  where  he  stood. 

Everybody  in  the  room  sprang  to  their  feet. 
Even  the  three  boys  jumped  up  from  the  bench 
where  they  had  been  sitting  and  stared  with  whiten- 
ing faces  at  Merritt  and  the  officer.  For  a  tense 
moment  no  one  spoke  nor  moved;  then  Merritt 
suddenly  straightened  up,  threw  back  his  head  and 
strode  straight  up  to  the  officer,  who  took  a  sudden 
startled  step  backward,  while  his  face  went  white. 

"When  I  was  your  prisoner — "  Merritt  had 
stopped  within  three  feet  of  the  officer  and  spoke 
in  a  low  tense  voice —  "and  in  your  power,  you 
struck  me,  beat  me  with  th'  flat  of  your  sword,  as 
if  I  was  a  dog,  'cause  I  had  helped  an  unfortunate 
English  sailor  tew  git  away  from  his  brutal  cap- 


Sonoma  267 

tain  an'  had  refused  tew  give  him  up,  accordin' 
tew  your  wicked  Mexican  laws.  But  now  you  are 
my  prisoner  and  in  my  power,  an'  I — "  MerritH 
paused  for  a  moment  and  his  hands  clenched  and 
unclenched  themselves  rapidly — "An'  I  WILL 
NOT  STRIKE  YOU,  'cause  I  can  'low  no  private 
feelin's  tew  git  in  atween  me  an'  my  public  duty. 
I  am  an  American;  an'  we  Americans  don't  think 
it  square  tew  use  our  office  power  tew  wipe  out 
a  private  wrong,"  and  he  whirled  suddenly  about  on 
his  feet,  strode  back  to  the  table,  picked  up  his  glass 
and  drank  its  contents.  "Now,  we'll  git  down  tew 
business,"  and  he  sat  down. 

At  a  motion  from  General  Vallejo,  the  officer, 
whose  entrance  had  been  the  occasion  of  this  dra- 
matic scene,  seated  himself;  and  the  work  of  pre- 
paring the  articles  of  capitulation  went  on  without 
any  further  interruptions,  for  the  time  being,  ex- 
cept that  caused  by  the  too  frequent  clinking  of 
glasses  and  the  gurgling  of  liquor,  furnished  so 
generously  by  the  hospitable  prisoner-host. 

By  this  time  the  three  boys  had  become  a  little 
restless  and  uneasy.  They  wished  to  do  some  talk- 
ing themselves;  but,  of  course,  this  they  dared  not 
do  where  they  now  were  for  fear  of  disturbing  their 
elders. 

"Don't  you  think  we  had  better  go  into  some 
other  room  ?"  Thure  at  last  ventured ;  "or,  better, 
out  into  the  plaza  where  the  men  are?  I  am  sure 
your  folks  will  let  you  go  with  us  now,  Miguel, 


268  Fighting  With  Fremont 

that  there  is  no  danger  of  there  being  any  fighting/* 

"Yes,"  agreed  Miguel.  "Come  on;  we'll  go  and 
ask  mother,"  and  the  three  boys  crept  as  quietly 
as  possible  from  the  room. 

The  boys  found  no  trouble  in  persuading  Mi- 
guel's mother  to  allow  him  to  go  with  them  out 
into  the  plaza,  now  that  she  was  convinced  that 
there  would  be  no  fighting ;  and  they  at  once  hurried 
out  of  the  house  and  into  the  plaza,  where  they 
found  the  men  becoming  just  a  little  impatient  over 
the  protracted  absence  of  their  leader. 

"Well,"  demanded  Conroyal,  the  moment  he 
caught  sight  of  Thure,  "What's  going  on  inside 
that's  keeping  them  so  long?  If  Merritt  don't 
show  up  before  long,  we'll  have  to  send  a  messenger 
in  after  him." 

The  boys  told  all  they  knew  of  what  was  "going 
on  inside,"  and  this  pacified  the  men  for  a  little 
while;  but  only  for  a  little  while.  Soon  their  im- 
patience broke  out  again. 

"I'm  tired  of  standin'  here  doin'  nuthin'  an* 
knowin'  nuthin'!"  yelled  one,  jumping  to  his  feet 
and  swinging  one  arm  oratorically  around  his  head. 
"I  move  that  we  send  someone  intew  th'  house  tew 
find  out  what's  doin'  in  thar." 

"Second  the  motion!"  shouted  another;  and  the 
yell  of  approval  that  followed  made  the  putting  of 
the  motion  unnecessary. 

"Carried  unanimous,"  declared  the  first  speaker. 
"Now,  who  shall  we  send?" 


Sonoma  269 

"Grigsby!  Grigsby!  Send  Grigsby!  He's  the 
man  to  send !"  yelled  a  dozen  voices. 

"I  reckon  it  is  up  tew  you,  Grigsby,"  and  the  self- 
appointed  chairman  turned  to  a  large  man  standing 
a  little  ways  from  him,  "tew  go  in  an'  git  th'  news. 
Now,  don't  let  that  house  swaller  you  up,  tew;  or 
thar's  apt  tew  be  an  eruption  out  here  that'll  bring 
you  all  out  a-whoopin'." 

Grigsby  accepted  the  mission;  and  disappeared 
in  the  Vallejo  house. 

For  half  an  hour  the  men  waited,  glaring  at  the 
silent  impassive  front  of  the  Vallejo  house;  but  no 
Grigsby  came  from  its  doors.  Then  they  could 
control  their  impatience  no  longer. 

"Now,  I  think  we've  stood  for  this  thing  jest 
'bout  long  enough,"  growled  one.  "Thar  sartin 
is  somethin'  queer  goin'  on  in  that  house,  an'  we 
otter  know  what  it  is ;  an'  I  move  that  we  do  know, 
if  we  have  tew  bust  in  th'  doors  tew  find  out." 

"An*  we  will  know  if  we  have  tew  knock  down 
th'  hull  front  of  th'  house,"  angrily  declared  the 
one  who  had  acted  as  chairman  when  Grigsby  had 
been  sent  in,  again  with  the  oratorical  flourish  of 
his  arm,  "I  move  that  we  send  in  William  B.  Ide 
tew  discover  what's  a-holdin'  our  leaders ;  an'  if  he 
ain't  out  ag'in  in  ten  minits  by  th'  watch,  that  we 
all  bust  in  th'  doors  an'  windows  an'  find  out  what's 
doin'  in  thar  for  ourselves !" 

"Good!"  yelled  a  dozen  voices.  "If  he  ain't  out 
and  right  here  where  we  can  talk  to  him  ag'in 


270  Fighting  With  Fremont 

in  ten  minits,  we'll  all  go  in  after  him.  Ide !  Ide ! 
Ide!" 

"I'll  go,"  Ide  shouted  in  response;  "and,  if  I  am 
alive  and  free,  I'll  be  back  inside  of  ten  minutes," 
and  he,  too,  entered  the  Vallejo  house. 

A  man  with  a  big  silver  watch  in  his  hand  sta- 
tioned himself  in  front  of  the  house  and  called  off 
the  minutes,  while  the  Americans  gathered  in  a 
solid  mass  behind  him,  ready  to  make  a  rush  the 
moment  the  ten  minutes  were  up. 

"One  minute! — Two  minutes! — Three  minutes! 
— Four  minutes! — Five  minutes!"  called  the  man. 

All  eyes  were  on  the  closed  door  of  the  Vallejo 
house  now,  and  many  of  the  men  were  crowding 
closer. 

"I — I  must  get  inside,  to  mother,"  and  Miguel 
Vallejo  turned  a  white  anxious  face  to  Thure.  "If 
all  these  wild-looking  men  should  break  into  the 
house,  she  would  be  frightened.  I  must  go  to  her," 
and  he  started  toward  the  door. 

"Six  minutes! — Seven  minutes!"  shouted  the 
man. 

"Wait,"  and  Thure  caught  hold  of  Miguel's  arm 
and  pulled  him  back.  "I  hear  voices.  Someone  is 
surely  coming." 

"Eight  minutes ! — Nine  minutes !"  cried  the  man 
with  the  watch.  "Ten — " 

The  door  was  thrown  violently  open  and  Ide 
rushed  out,  flourishing  a  paper  in  one  hand,  with 
Merritt  and  the  tall  Doctor  Semple  close  behind 


Sonoma  271 

him  and  behind  them  the  two  other  Americans  and 
the  Mexican  officers,  with  the  stately  form  of  Gen- 
eral Vallejo  bringing  up  the  rear. 

In  an  instant  all  was  confusion  and  excitement. 
Everybody  tried  to  talk  at  once,  with  the  result 
that,  for  a  time,  nobody  understood  anybody.  But 
at  last  Ide  managed  to  make  the  men  understand 
that  the  papers  which  he  held  in  his  hand  were  the 
articles  of  capitulation,  that  he  had  found  Merritt 
and  the  other  high  contracting  parties  still  poring 
over  them,  while  they  still  continued  to  pour  much 
good  liquor  down  their  throats,  that,  in  his  indigna- 
tion, he  had  seized  the  papers  and  had  rushed  out  of 
house  with  them  to  read  them  to  the  men. 

"Thar's  no  need  of  any  papers  'bout  this  here 
capitulation  or  nothin'  else,"  growled  one  of  the 
men.  "All  we've  got  tew  do  is  jest  tew  take  these 
here  prisoners  tew  Captain  Fremont,  an'  I  reckon, 
we  don't  need  no  papers  tew  do  that." 

Nearly  all  the  men  supported  this  view  of  the  mat- 
ter ;  and,  after  much  loud  talking,  it  was  finally  de- 
cided to  send  four  of  the  most  important  prisoners, 
General  Vallejo,  his  brother  Captain  Don  Salvador 
Vallejo,  his  brother-in-law  Jacob  P.  Leese  and  Lieu- 
tenant-Colonel Victor  Purdon,  to  Fremont. 

General  Vallejo,  although  chagrined  at  the  turn 
affairs  had  taken,  for  he  had  hoped  to  secure  his 
personal  freedom  through  the  articles  of  capitula- 
tion, was  still  the  courteous  and  hospitable  prisoner- 
host.  He  sent  for  his  caballada  (herd  of  saddle- 


272  Fighting  With  Fremont 

broken  horses),  and  offered  his  captors  fresh 
horses,  with  which  to  mount  the  men  who  were  to 
guard  the  prisoners  on  their  way  to  Fremont's 
camp.  The  offer  was  accepted,  but  with  the  un- 
derstanding that  General  Vallejo  was  to  be  remu- 
nerated as  soon  as  the  new  government  should 
become  established. 

Just  before  the  start  back  to  the  camp  of  Fre- 
mont with  the  prisoners  was  made,  Noel  Conroyal 
and  Mr.  Randolph  called  the  two  boys  to  them. 

"Mr.  Randolph  and  I  think  it  would  be  a  good 
idea,"  Conroyal  said,  as  the  boys  hurried  up,  "to 
leave  someone  here,  who,  if  anything  important  hap- 
pens, can  ride  at  once  to  Fremont ;  and  we  have  con- 
cluded that  you  two  boys  are  the  ones  to  leave." 

"Good!"  broke  in  Miguel  Vallejo.  "They  can 
stay  with  me.  I  am  sure  mother  will  be  glad  to 
have  them." 

"Thank  you,  Miguel,"  and  Mr.  Conroyal  laid  a 
hand  affectionately  on  the  boy's  shoulder.  "Yes, 
they  can  stay  with  you,  if  your  folks  are  willing. 
Now,"  and  he  again  turned  to  Thure  and  Bud,  "Mr. 
Ide  will  be  left  in  command  of  the  Americans  who 
remain  to  hold  Sonoma.  We  have  already  spoken 
with  him ;  and,  if  anything  happens  which  he  thinks 
Fremont  should  know,  he  will  send  you  boys  at 
once  with  a  message  to  him.  So  you  will  con- 
stantly hold  yourselves  in  readiness  to  ride  at  any 
moment.  This  means  that  you  must  keep  your- 
selves all  the  time  where  Ide  can  find  you  quickly 


Sonoma  273 

and  do  no  skylarking  about  the  country.  Now, 
what  do  you  boys  say?  Are  you  willing?" 

"Yes,"  answered  both  boys  in  one  breath;  and 
their  sparkling  eyes  and  flushed  faces  spoke  even 
more  eloquently  of  their  willingness  than  did  their 
ready  response. 

Both  men  smiled  and  each  glanced  at  the  other 
a  little  proudly. 

"Then  Ide  can  depend  on  you.  But  now  we 
must  say  good-by;  for  I  see  the  men  are  mounting. 
Take  good  care  of  yourselves,"  and  the  two  men 
hurried  away  to  join  the  convoy,  who,  with  the 
four  prisoners  in  their  midst,  were  already  mounted 
and  ready  to  start  on  their  way  back  to  the  camp 
of  Fremont. 

"Come,  let  us  go  and  tell  mother  that  you  are 
to  be  my  company,"  urged  Miguel  rejoicingly, 
when,  at  last,  the  convoy  and  their  prisoners  had 
disappeared  from  sight  behind  a  low  hill.  "She 
will  be  very  glad  to  make  you  welcome  in  our 
home." 

The  father  of  Miguel  Vallejo  was  a  cousin  of 
General  Vallejo  and  made  his  home  in  one  of  the 
many  apartments  of  the  General's  large  house  in 
Sonoma,  one  of  the  largest  and  most  pretentious 
houses  then  in  California;  and  thither  the  three 
boys  now  hurried,  to  pay  their  respects  to  Miguel's 
mother. 

They  found  Mrs.  Vallejo  very  much  excited  over 
the  happenings  of  the  morning  and  more  than  a 


274  Fighting  With  Fremont 

little  indignant  over  the  rough  manners  of  the 
Americanos,  who  had  so  rudely  destroyed  the 
peacefulness  of  their  quiet  little  town ;  but  she  wel- 
comed the  two  boys  warmly  and  bade  Miguel  see 
that  they  had  everything  to  make  their  stay  with 
them  comfortable  and  pleasant. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

,THE   BEAR   FLAG 

CIGHTEEN  men  were  left  with  Ide  to  hold 
*-*  Sonoma;  but,  in  a  few  days,  when  the  capture 
of  the  town  became  known  throughout  the  sur- 
rounding country,  this  number  was  increased  to 
some  fifty  men,  by  the  hurrying  hither  of  the  Amer- 
icans in  the  vicinity.  All  now  felt  that  the  war  be- 
tween the  Mexican  authorities  and  the  Americans 
in  California  had  actually  begun;  and,  whether  or 
not  they  approved  of  the  manner  of  its  beginning, 
all  the  Americans  knew  that  they  must  now  stand 
together,  or  be  destroyed,  or,  at  the  least,  driven 
from  the  country.  Hence,  at  the  news  of  the  cap- 
ture of  Sonoma,  every  American  man,  who  could 
do  so,  shouldered  his  rifle  and  started  with  his  fam- 
ily, if  he  had  one,  for  the  nearest  body  of  armed 
Americans. 

During  these  few  days  Thure  and  Bud  were  con- 
stantly on  the  watch  for  something  to  happen,  which 
would  send  them  post-haste  to  Fremont.  Every 
morning  and  every  night  they  reported  to  Captain 
Ide,  as  he  was  now  called,  and,  during  the  day,  they, 
in  company  with  young  Vallejo,  spent  most  of  their 
time  in  the  plaza  talking  with  the  Americans,  where 
275 


276  Fighting  With  Fremont 

they  could  be  quickly  summoned,  should  there  be 
sudden  need  of  their  services ;  but  for  two  or  three 
days  nothing  occurred  that  would  justify  a  special 
message  to  Fremont.  Then  one  morning,  when 
they  entered  the  plaza.,  they  saw  Ide  standing  on  a 
box  surrounded  by  a  crowd  of  Americans  and  Mex- 
icans, evidently  making  some  sort  of  an  appeal  to 
them,  judging  by  his  emphatic  gestures  and  loud 
voice. 

"Hurry!  Ide  is  making  a  speech,"  and  Thure 
started  on  the  run  for  the  crowd,  followed  by  Bud 
and  Miguel. 

In  a  minute  more  the  three  boys  were  pushing 
their  way  through  the  crowd  and  they  did  not  pause 
until  they  had  reached  a  spot  near  the  speaker. 

Ide  was  in  the  midst  of  an  impassionate  appeal 
to  the  Americans  and  the  friendly  Californians 
there  present,  in  behalf  of  a  proclamation  setting 
forth  the  purposes  for  which  the  Americans  had 
gathered  and  the  principles  in  support  of  which  they 
had  taken  up  arms,  which,  it  appears,  he  had  been 
busy  preparing  during  the  past  two  days,  and  which 
he  wished  them  to  adopt  as  their  Declaration  of 
Independence,  the  Declaration  of  Independence  of 
the  new  Republic  of  California  that  was  about  to  be 
established.  The  proclamation  itself  was  tacked 
on  the  old  Mexican  flagstaff  in  the  center  of  the 
plaza,  where  all  could  read. 

Ide  was  eloquent ;  and  the  men,  partly  in  a  burst 
of  enthusiastic  approval  and  partly  in  good-natured 


The  Bear  Flag  277 

acquiescence,  authorized  the  adoption  and  promul- 
gation of  the  declaration,  amid  a  great  deal  of 
cheering  and  a  little  laughing  and  jesting,  for  there 
were  some  who  looked  upon  this  idea  of  Ide's  of  a 
new  Republic  of  California  as  a  joke. 

"Now,  we  shore  want  a  flag!"  yelled  one  of  the 
men. 

"You  are  right,"  responded  Ide.  "We  must 
have  a  flag.  Now,  what  shall  the  device  on  the 
flag  be?" 

"A  grizzly  b'ar,  th'  monarch  of  these  here  moun- 
tains an'  plains,"  declared  a  huge  hunter.  "He 
never  gives  th'  road  tew  man  or  beast,  never  is 
scart  by  numbers  and  fights  till  he  drops  dead.  I 
reckon  that  is  'bout  th'  kind  of  a  device  we  want 
on  this  here  flag  of  our  Republic.  It  will  tell  the 
Mexies  plain  what  kind  of  a  tackle  they're  up 
against." 

A  great  shout  of  approval  greeted  this  sugges- 
tion; and  a  man  by  the  name  of  William  L.  Todd, 
who  had  a  little  skill  with  the  brush,  seized  upon 
a  piece  of  brown  cotton  cloth  a  couple  of  yards  or 
so  in  length,  and  with  a  pot  of  old  red  or  brown 
paint  and  an  old  brush  painted  thereon  a  rude  like- 
ness of  a  grizzly  bear.  Then  this  piece  of  cloth 
was  raised  to  the  top  of  the  old  Mexican  flagstaff, 
some  seventy  feet  high ;  and  the  emblem  of  the  new 
Republic  was  unfurled  to  the  breeze  amid  the  cheers 
and  volleyed  rifle  shots  of  the  Americans. 

"Now,  that's  not  a  bad  flag  for  the  Republic  of 


278  Fighting  With  Fremont 

California,"  Thure  declared  a  little  later,  as  the 
three  boys  stood  admiring  the  result  of  Todd's  ar- 
tistic skill.  "I  mean  that  grizzly  bear  emblem ;  and, 
if  it  will  inspire  its  followers  to  fight  like  grizzlies, 
why  they  can  lick  the  whole  world.  A  grizzly 
don't  even  know  when  he  is  licked,  and  is  never 
more  dangerous  than  when  he  is  mortally  wounded. 
But,  I  wonder  what  Fremont  will  think  of  this  new 
Republic  idea  of  Ide's,"  and  his  face  clouded  a  little. 

"I  don't  know  what  Fremont  will  think,  but  I 
know  what  I  think,"  Bud  declared  emphatically. 
"I  don't  like  this  ugly-looking  bear  flag  half  as 
well  as  I  do  the  beautiful  stars  and  stripes;  and  I 
do  not  want  California  to  become  a  Republic  by 
itself.  I  want  it  to  become  a  part  of  the  great 
United  States." 

"Good!"  agreed  Thure;  and  "Good!"  echoed 
Miguel  Vallejo,  who  was  almost  as  rabid  an  Amer- 
ican as  were  the  boys  themselves. 

"Senors,"  and  an  old  Mexican,  who  had  been 
staring  at  the  flag  for  the  last  five  minutes,  now 
turned  to  the  boys,  a  puzzled  look  on  his  wrinkled 
face.  "Why  have  the  mad  Americanos  a  pig  on  a 
piece  of  cloth  painted  and  hung  it  high  in  the  air? 
Is  it  that  they  would  make  of  the  pig  their  flag?" 

The  faces  of  the  boys  flushed  and  they  were  about 
to  retort  angrily,  when  another  look  at  the  flag 
caused  them  to  burst  into  hearty  laughs. 

"Well,  I'll  be  teetotally  flopdoodled,  if  it  don't 
look  more  like  a  fat  pig  than  it  does  like  a  bear!" 


The  Bear  Flag  279 

Thure  exclaimed,  his  eyes  on  the  crude  figure  on  the 
flag.  "But  it  won't  do  to  have  the  Mexicans  call- 
ing it  the  pig  flag,"  and  his  face  sobered  and  he 
turned  to  the  Mexican.  "Sefior,"  he  said,  "your 
eyes  are  old  and  you  do  not  see  clearly.  That  is 
not  a  pig  you  see  painted  on  that  flag,  but  a  bear 
— a  grizzly  bear;  and  it  means  that  those  who 
raised  it  will  be  as  brave  and  as  strong  as  the 
grizzly  in  defending  their  rights  and  liberties 
against  the  tyranny  of  Mexico." 

"Bravo,  my  young  friend  of  Liberty!"  and  Ide, 
who  had  approached  unnoticed  by  the  boys  in  time 
to  hear  Thure's  last  words,  placed  a  hand  on  the 
boy's  shoulder.  "You  have  correctly  interpreted 
the  symbol  of  the  bear.  We  will  defend  our  liber- 
ties and  our  rights,  if  we  must,  with  all  the  grizzly's 
strength  and  courage  and  tenacity,  guided  by 
human  intelligence  and  favored,  we  trust,  by  Divine 
Providence.  But,  I  came  to  tell  you  to  prepare 
at  once  to  ride  to  Captain  Fremont.  He  must  know 
that  the  new  Republic  of  California  has  been  estab- 
lished, that  its  flag  floats  in  the  breeze  and  that 
we  at  Sonoma  are  about  to  organize  the  new  gov- 
ernment. You  will  carry  him  a  copy  of  my  procla- 
mation; and  you  will  tell  him  what  you  have  this 
day  seen  and  heard."  Ide's  eyes  kindled.  At  the 
moment,  he  saw  himself  the  father  of  a  new  Re- 
public, that  would  be  builded  into  greatness  in  that 
beautiful  land  on  the  shores  of  the  great  Pacific; 
and  the  dream  was  a  pleasant  and  a  glorious  one. 


280  Fighting  With  Fremont 

"We  will  be  ready  to  start  in  half  an  hour," 
Thure  answered,  his  own  eyes  lighting. 

"Good.  When  you  are  mounted,  report  to  me 
for  your  message  and  instructions,"  and  Ide  strode 
swiftly  away,  deep  in  his  thoughts  of  his  new  Re- 
public. 

Thure  and  Bud,  accompanied  by  Miguel,  hurried 
to  the  corral  where  their  horses  were  kept;  and, 
in  less  than  the  half  hour,  pulled  up  their  horses 
in  front  of  the  house  where  Ide  had  established  his 
headquarters.  Captain  Ide,  a  sealed  packet  of  pa- 
pers in  his  hand,  stood  in  the  door  awaiting  them. 

"Ride  with  all  despatch,"  he  said,  as  he  handed 
the  packet  of  papers  to  Thure;  "and  keep  a  sharp 
lookout  for  Mexican  soldiers." 

"Yes,  sir,"  and  Thure  placed  the  packet  in  the 
bosom  of  his  buckskin  shirt.  "We  will  get  to  Fre- 
mont's camp  as  quickly  as  our  horses'  legs  will  take 
us  there.  Have  we  everything  now  ?" 

"Yes.  A  safe  and  a  quick  ride  to  you.  Good- 
by,"  and,  with  a  wave  of  his  hand,  Ide  hurried  into 
the  house. 

The  two  boys,  they  had  already  said  their  fare- 
wells to  Miguel  and  his  mother,  at  once  struck  spurs 
into  their  horses  and  galloped  out  of  Sonoma.  The 
day  was  still  young;  and,  by  riding  hard,  they 
hoped  to  reach  the  camp  of  Fremont  late  in  the 
afternoon  of  the  next  day.  This  would  mean  that 
they  would  have  to  spend  a  night  alone  out  in  the 
wilds;  but,  to  boys  as  hardy  and  as  accustomed  to 


The  Bear  Flag  281 

roughing  it  as  were  Thure  and  Bud,  this  would  be 
no  hardship  and  have  no  terrors.  Indeed,  they 
rather  liked  the  responsibility  of  traveling  alone. 
It  made  them  feel  more  grown-up,  more  like  men. 
Besides,  each  of  the  lads  carried  his  rifle  and  his 
hunting-knife,  and  there  were  a  couple  of  pistols 
in  the  holster  of  each  saddle,  and  their  horses  were 
both  remarkably  fleet-footed;  so,  why  should  they 
fear?  The  danger  they  could  not  overcome  with 
rifles  and  knives  and  pistols,  they  could  flee  from  on 
the  backs  of  their  horses. 

All  that  day  they  rode  steadily  on  their  way; 
and,  when  night  came,  it  found  them  entering  a 
secluded  valley  in  the  midst  of  surrounding  hills, 
with  a  little  grove  of  trees  growing  near  its  center 
and  a  small  stream  of  water  flowing  within  a  few 
rods  of  the  grove. 

"I  think  we  had  better  camp  here,"  Thure  said, 
as  the  two  boys  pulled  up  their  tired  horses  to 
glance  over  the  quiet  scene.  "That  grove  will 
furnish  a  good  hiding-place  for  ourselves  and 
horses,  and  we  will  be  near  plenty  of  wood  and 
water." 

"Yes,"  agreed  Bud,  "I  think  it  is  time  we  went 
into  camp;  and  this  looks  like  a  good  place.  We 
can  build  a  little  fire  out  of  dry  wood,  so  that  there 
won't  be  any  smoke,  in  there  among  the  trees, 
where  it  will  be  completely  hidden  from  anyone 
happening  to  pass  along,  although  I  do  not  think 
there  is  much  danger.  There  doesn't  seem  to  be 


282  Fighting  With  Fremont 

a  human  being  in  all  the  Valley.  At  least  I  haven't 
seen  a  sign  of  one,  Indian,  Mexican  or  American, 
since  leaving  Sonoma.  Have  you?" 

"No,"  answered  Thure;  "but  we  had  better  take 
no  chances.  General  Castro  must  have  heard  of 
the  capture  of  Sonoma  before  this  and  has  probably 
sent  out  small  scouting  parties  to  be  on  the  lookout 
for  Americans.  I  wouldn't  like  to  fall  into  the 
hands  of  one  of  these  parties;  for,  I  reckon,  they'll 
be  in  pretty  ugly  tempers  and  there  is  no  telling 
what  they  might  do  to  a  fellow.  Some  of  them 
Mexican  soldiers,  you  know,  were  murderers  and 
thieves  down  in  Mexico;  and,  instead  of  putting 
them  in  prison  where  they  belong,  the  Mexican 
government  has  made  soldiers  out  of  them  and  sent 
them  up  here  to  keep  us  Americans  in  order,"  and 
Thure's  face  flushed  angrily.  "I  don't  wonder  that 
even  the  native  Californians  are  ready  to  rebel 
against  such  a  government." 

"Yes,"  assented  Bud.  "Dad  says  that  half  of  the 
soldiers  that  Mexico  sends  up  here  would  be 
hanged,  if  they  got  their  rights;  and  that  some  of 
the  officers  are  not  much  better.  Now,"  and  his 
eyes  glanced  swiftly  around,  "I  am  going  to  climb 
to  the  top  of  that  tall  tree  and  see  if  there  is  any- 
thing that  looks  suspicious  around,"  and  he  pointed 
to  a  large  tree  that  grew  a  dozen  rods  away.  "I 
reckon  I  can  see  all  over  the  valley  from  its  top. 
Just  hold  my  horse.  'T won't  take  but  a  minute  or 
two,"  and,  jumping  off  his  horse,  he  handed  the 


The  Bear  Flag  283 

reins  to  Thure  and,  running  to  the  tree,  climbed 
swiftly  to  its  top  and  carefully  examined  the  little 
valley. 

"Not  a  sign  of  a  human  being  anywhere  in  sight," 
he  said,  as  he  climbed  down  the  tree  and  again 
mounted  his  horse;  "and  I  could  see  nearly  every 
inch  of  ground  in  the  valley,  except  that  hidden  by 
the  trees.  There  is  a  herd  of  elks  just  beyond  the 
trees,  and  that  is  a  sure  sign  that  there  is  nothing 
dangerous  to  us  hidden  in  the  grove.  Come  on, 
and  maybe  we  can  get  one  of  the  elks  for  supper. 
The  wind  is  right,"  and  he  headed  his  horse  toward 
the  little  grove. 

When  they  reached  the  grove,  both  boys  dis- 
mounted and  securely  tied  their  horses.  The  ani- 
mals were  too  nearly  worn-out  to  be  used  in  hunt- 
ing the  elks.  Then  they  made  their  way  cautiously 
through  the  little  woods  toward  the  spot  where  Bud 
had  seen  the  elks,  hoping  to  find  one  of  the  animals 
within  rifle-shot  of  the  grove.  Along  the  outer 
edge  of  the  grove  was  a  thicket  of  underbrush  that 
effectually  concealed  their  movements;  and,  care- 
fully working  their  way  through  this,  they  at  last 
came  within  sight  of  their  quarry. 

There  were  half  a  hundred  or  more  elks  scattered 
about  over  the  valley  in  front  of  them;  and  one,  a 
fat  little  buck  that  could  not  have  been  over  a  year 
old,  stood  within  easy  rifle-range. 

"He's  our  meat,"  whispered  Thure,  pointing  to- 
ward the  young  buck.  "You  can  have  the  first  shot, 


284  Fighting  With  Fremont 

Bud,  because  you  saw  them  first.  I'll  stand  ready 
to  shoot,  if  you  don't  get  him." 

"All  right,"  and  Bud  dropped  on  one  knee  and, 
throwing  his  rifle  to  his  shoulder,  took  careful  aim 
and  fired. 

The  young  elk  fell  almost  in  his  tracks,  shot 
through  the  base  of  his  skull,  an  exceedingly  diffi- 
cult shot  to  make,  but  sudden  death,  if  hit. 

"I  see,"  laughed  Thure,  when  he  saw  where  the 
ball  had  struck,  "that  you  did  not  intend  to  give  me 
a  chance." 

"I  wanted  just  to  see  if  I  could  hit  him  there," 
and  Bud  smiled.  "I  knew  that  you  would  get  him, 
if  I  missed." 

The  two  boys  now  cut  the  choicest  portions  of 
meat  from  the  carcass  and,  returning  to  their 
horses,  sought  a  place  for  their  camp.  This  they 
found  near  the  center  of  the  grove,  where  there  was 
a  little  natural  opening  concealed  by  the  under- 
brush and  trees  and  with  sufficient  grass  growing 
in  it  to  feed  their  horses.  Here  they  built  a  little 
fire,  being  very  careful  to  use  only  dry  wood,  so  that 
there  would  be  no  smoke  that  would  show  above  the 
treetops;  and  then,  cutting  sticks  of  green  wood 
about  three  feet  long,  they  sharpened  both  ends  and, 
thrusting  one  end  through  a  chunk  of  the  elk  meat, 
they  pushed  the  other  end  into  the  ground  near  the 
fire  and  at  such  a  slant  that  the  meat  would  be  just 
the  right  distance  from  the  coals  to  broil  nicely.  This 
done  they  filled  a  small  coffee  pot  with  water,  poured 


The  Bear  Flag  285 

a  little  coffee  into  it  and  hung  it  over  the  fire  to 
boil  from  the  end  of  a  third  and  longer  stick,  driven 
firmly  into  the  ground  at  the  right  angle  to  keep  the 
pot  at  the  proper  distance  from  the  fire.  When  the 
coffee  had  boiled  sufficiently  and  the  meat  was  done 
to  a  turn,  they  cut  a  few  slices  from  the  loaf  of  bread 
they  had  brought  with  them;  and  their  simple  but 
wholesome  meal  was  ready. 

"Do  you  think  we  had  better  keep  guard?"  Bud 
asked,  as  they  sat  near  the  genial  glow  of  the  camp- 
fire  after  they  had  eaten  their  supper.  "We  are  so 
completely  hidden  in  these  woods  that  I  don't  be- 
lieve there  is  the  least  danger  of  any  one  finding  us, 
unless  they  search  the  woods  and  nobody  is  going  to 
do  that  at  night." 

"I  don't  suppose  there  is  any  danger,"  Thure  an- 
swered ;  "but  still  I  think  one  of  us  had  better  keep 
guard  while  the  other  sleeps.  One  can  never  tell 
what  will  happen  in  the  wilderness ;  and  Kit  Carson 
says  it  is  always  better  to  be  overcautious  and  keep 
your  scalp  on  your  head  than  it  is  to  be  overconfi- 
dent and  to  run  the  risk  of  losing  it.  You  know  the 
only  night  we  had  no  guard,  when  I  was  with  Fre- 
mont, was  the  night  the  Klamaths  attacked  us  and 
killed  three  of  our  men;  and  even  Kit  Carson  did 
not  think  there  would  be  any  danger  that  night. 
I'll  stand  guard  the  first  half  of  the  night." 

"All  right,"  Bud  acquiesced.  "The  only  thing  I 
am  afraid  of  is  Mexicans ;  and  I  don't  believe  there 
is  one  of  them  within  ten  miles  of  us ;  still,  of  course, 


286  Fighting  With  Fremont 

it  is  better  to  be  on  the  safe  side.  But,  isn't  this 
great  ?"  and  his  eyes  glanced  around  the  picturesque 
little  encampment.  "I  do  not  wonder  that  hunters 
and  trappers,  after  they  have  spent  a  year  or  so  out 
in  the  wilderness,  can  never  be  content  to  live 
cooped  up  inside  of  four  stiff  walls  to  shut  out  the 
air  and  a  roof  to  hide  that,"  and  he  pointed  above 
his  head,  where  now  the  stars  looked  down  through 
the  clear  air  in  all  the  glorious  splendors  of  God's 
own  canopy. 

"Yes,  it  is  great,"  Thure  agreed  reverently. 
"And,  somehow,  when  I  stand  in  the  midst  of  the 
silence  and  the  darkness  and  the  mystery  of  the 
wilderness  at  night,  with  all  those  wonderful  lights 
shining  down  from  above,  I  always  feel  as  if — as  if 
I  were  in  a  great  church  built  by  God's  own  hands, 
as  if  I  ought  to  take  off  my  hat  and  fall  on  my 
knees." 

"That's  it !  That  is  just  the  way  I  feel  to-night !" 
Bud  declared.  "I  think  I'll  be  a  trapper  and  hunter, 
like  Kit  Carson,  when  I  grow  up." 

For  an  hour  the  two  boys  sat  close  together  by 
the  fire,  talking  in  low  tones ;  and  then  Bud  arose  to 
prepare  his  bed  for  the  night.  First  he  found  a 
smooth  spot  of  ground,  free  from  all  roots  and 
stones  and  where  the  light  of  the  camp-fire  did  not 
shine  on  it,  so  that  no  enemy  could  find  him  by  its 
light.  Then,  with  his  hunting-knife,  he  slightly 
hollowed  out  the  ground  where  his  hips  would  fall, 
placed  his  saddle  down  on  the  ground  for  a  pillow, 


The  Bear  Flag  287 

rolled  himself  and  rifle  up  in  his  heavy  blanket  and 
lay  down  to  sleep  as  warmly  and  as  comfortably  as 
you  boys  do  in  your  soft  beds. 

Thure,  also,  stepped  outside  of  the  circle  of  light 
made  by  the  camp-fire  and  took  up  his  station  in  the 
deep  shadows  of  the  overhanging  branches  of  a 
tree,  where  he  could  keep  his  eyes  on  the  two  horses 
and  on  the  form  of  Bud,  which,  in  the  darkness, 
looked  more  like  a  short  piece  of  a  log  than  it  did 
like  the  body  of  a  human  being. 

An  hour — two  hours — three  hours  passed.  He 
had  not  heard  a  suspicious  sound  nor  seen  a  sus- 
picious movement ;  and  now,  tired  by  his  long  day's 
ride,  he  began  to  get  very,  very  sleepy.  He  leaned 
up  against  the  trunk  of  the  tree,  his  head  nodded, 
fell  forward  on  his  chest,  remained  there  a  few  mo- 
ments and  then  was  straightened  up  with  a  startled 
jerk.  A  few  minutes  later  and  his  head  was  nod- 
ding again  and,  presently,  it  again  fell  forward  on 
his  chest. 

Almost  at  the  same  moment  several  dark  forms 
emerged  from  the  black  shadows  of  the  surrounding 
trees,  and  crept  silently  toward  the  sleeping  sentinel 
under  the  tree  and  the  sleeping  boy  rolled  up  in  his 
blanket.  When  within  a  few  feet  of  Thure,  a  dry 
twig  snapped  under  the  feet  of  one  of  the  shadowy 
forms  approaching  him.  Instantly  all  stood  mo- 
tionless, breathless ;  but  Thure  did  not  lift  his  head, 
did  not  move ;  and  the  cautious  advance  was  again 
begun.  Now,  a  couple  of  the  shadowy  forms 


288  Fighting  With  Fremont 

crouch  above  Bud,  a  couple  stand  within  hand- 
reach  of  Thure;  and  still  both  boys  sleep,  ignorant 
of  their  peril. 

Suddenly,  a  shrill  whistle  breaks  the  silence  of  the 
night ;  and,  at  the  instant  of  its  sound,  the  crouching 
forms  hurl  themselves  upon  Bud,  pinioning  him  in 
his  own  blanket,  the  two  standing  near  Thure,  with 
a  quick  jump,  throw  a  blanket  over  his  head  and 
shoulders ;  and,  in  that  moment,  both  boys  are  help- 
less and  at  the  mercy  of  their  captors. 


CHAPTER  XX 

PADILLA 

WHEN  the  blankets  were  removed  from  the 
heads  of  Thure  and  Bud  and  they  could  look 
around  and  note  what  had  happened,  they  found 
themselves  standing  by  the  side  of  their  own  camp- 
fire,  which  had  been  replenished  and  was  now  burn- 
ing brightly,  with  half  a  dozen  dark-skinned  vil- 
lainous-looking faces,  leering  and  grinning  tri- 
umphantly at  them  above  a  half  circle  of  greasy- 
looking  bodies  clothed  in  the  worn  and  dirty  uni- 
forms of  Mexican  soldiers.  They  were  not  bound, 
but  all  their  weapons  had  been  taken  from  them,  and 
their  captors  stood  with  rifles  in  their  hands  and 
knives  and  pistols  in  their  belts.  It  would  be  im- 
possible to  tell  which  look,  the  look  of  disgust  at 
their  being  so  easily  captured  by  the  Mexicans  or 
that  of  dread  at  what  might  be  in  store  for  them, 
showed  most  on  the  faces  of  the  two  boys  as  they 
turned  and  looked  into  each  other's  eyes. 

"Well,  they've  got  us,"  Bud  remarked  laconically, 
his  white  lips  forming  a  sickly  smile. 

"And  without  a  shot  fired  or  a  blow  struck.    They 
found  me  asleep."     Even  the  fear  in  Thure's  heart 
could  not  keep  down  his  self -disgust. 
289 


290  Fighting  With  Fremont 

"So  they  did  me,"  Bud  added,  with  a  grin.  "But, 
pluck  up.  It  is  better  this  way,  than  it  would  have 
been  if  we  had  got  killed  or  had  killed  some  of  them, 
as  might  have  happened  had  you  been  awake. 
Now,  they  can't  have  very  much  of  a  grudge 
against  us ;  and  they  would  have  got  us  anyway." 

But,  good  as  was  this  logic,  it  was  of  little  com- 
fort to  Thure.  He  had  been  captured  while  sleep- 
ing at  his  post ;  and  all  the  logic  in  the  world  could 
not  wash  the  shame  of  the  disgrace  away. 

Their  captors,  after  leering  and  grinning  at  them 
for  a  minute  or  two,  tightly  tied  their  hands  behind 
their  backs,  threw  them  roughly  up  on  the  backs  of 
their  own  horses,  which  they  had  saddled  and 
bridled,  and  then,  leading  the  horses,  conducted 
them  to  where  their  own  horses  were  tied  in  the 
edge  of  the  grove.  All  then  mounted  and  started 
off  across  the  valley,  toward  the  mountains  that 
loomed  shadow-like  in  the  distance  against  the  clear 
starlit  skies. 

So  far  not  one  of  their  captors  had  spoken  a  word 
to  the  two  boys,  but  they  had  jabbered  away  in 
Spanish  among  themselves  at  a  great  rate.  Bud 
could  not  understand  a  word  they  said;  but  Thure, 
who  had  lived  for  many  years  in  New  Orleans 
where  Spanish,  at  that  time,  was  almost  as  much 
used  as  English,  spoke  and  understood  the  Spanish 
language  nearly  as  well  as  he  did  the  English,  and 
he,  of  course,  could  understand  every  word  the  Mex- 
ican soldiers  said. 


Padilla  291 

'They  are  taking  us  to  their  chief,"  he  said  in  a 
low  voice  to  Bud,  as  they  rode  along,  "who  is  with 
more  men  somewhere  in  the  mountains.  They 
heard  your  rifle  shot  when  you  killed  the  elk,  and 
saw  us  enter  the  woods;  and  then,  when  it  became 
dark,  they  crept  up  and  watched  us  until  you  went 
to  bed  and  I  fell  asleep  at  my  post — you  know  the 
rest,"  he  added  ruefully.  "I  can't  make  out  just 
who  they  are,  but  I  am  sure  one  of  them  is  a  bad 
Mexican  known  as  Four-fingered  Jack,  so  I  think 
we  have  fallen  into  hard  hands.  I — " 

But  here  one  of  the  Mexicans  struck  Thure 
across  his  mouth  with  the  flat  of  his  hand,  which 
was  Mexican  for  "Shut  up!  No  more  talk";  and 
brought  the  conversation  to  an  abrupt  close. 

At  the  end  of  two  hours'  steady  riding  they  en- 
tered a  maze  of  rocky  gullies,  narrow  ravines  and 
deep  canyons,  that  seemed,  as  far  as  the  boys  could 
see  in  the  darkness,  to  run  in  every  direction;  and, 
finally,  after  passing  through  a  deep  and  narrow 
canyon,  they  came  to  a  quiet  little  valley  of  only  a 
few  acres  in  extent.  At  the  entrance  to  this  valley 
they  were  challenged  and  passed  by  a  sentry  and 
near  its  center  glowed  the  coals  of  a  large  camp-fire, 
around  which  lay  the  sleeping  forms  of  a  number  of 
men. 

Four-fingered  Jack,  who  appeared  to  be  the  leader 
of  the  little  band  of  Mexicans  who  had  captured  the 
boys,  now  gave  a  loud  hallo ;  and  the  sleeping  men 
at  once  sprang  to  their  feet ;  and,  in  a  couple  of  min- 


292  Fighting  With  Fremont 

utes  more,  the  boys  found  themselves  in  the  midst 
of  the  Mexican  chief's  mountain  camp.  There 
were  apparently — in  the  confusion  and  the  darkness 
the  boys  could  not  count  very  accurately — a  couple 
of  dozen  men,  all  wearing  the  uniforms  of  Mexican 
soldiers.  These  crowded  curiously  around  the  boys, 
while  Four-fingered  Jack  told  the  story  of  their 
capture  to  the  officer  in  command,  who  stood  a  lit- 
tle apart  near  the  camp-fire. 

Presently  Four-fingered  Jack  turned  and  gave  a 
command  in  Mexican.  Instantly  two  of  the  men 
seized  hold  of  each  of  the  boys  and,  pulling  them 
roughly  from  their  horses,  dragged  them  to  where 
the  leader  stood  by  the  camp-fire. 

Fresh  wood  had  been  thrown  on  the  fire  and  it 
was  now  blazing  brightly. 

The  officer,  his  back  had  been  to  the  boys,  turned 
suddenly  on  the  approach  of  the  two  lads  and  faced 
them. 

"Padilla !"  gasped  Thure,  his  face  going  white. 

The  officer  started,  bent  forward  and  peered 
sharply  into  Thure's  face  and  then  straightened  up, 
his  black  eyes  glowing  with  satisfaction  and  vin- 
dictive hatred. 

"Padilla,  yes,"  he  said.  "I  am  Padilla ;  and  you 
the  son  of  Conroyal,  who  struck  me  with  his  big 
fist,  who  whipped  me  with  his  whip,  like  I  was  a 
dog.  Now,"  and  his  thin  lips  tightened  across  his 
teeth  until  they  showed,  like  the  teeth  of  a  snarling 
dog,  "there  is  war  between  the  Americanos  and  the 


Padilla  293 

Mexicans;  and  you  are  in  my  power,  and  I  can  do 
with  you  as  I  will — whip — shoot — hang — torture — 
make  slave — as  I  will.  Padilla  never  forgets,  never 
forgives.  Now,  I  sleep  and  dream  how  I  your 
father  make  suffer  through  you.  In  the  morning 
I  say  more.  See  that  they  not  escape.  If  they  get 
away,  the  guard  I  will  shoot,"  and,  with  a  last  taunt- 
ing vindictive  look  into  the  face  of  Thure,  Padilla 
turned  again  to  his  blanket. 

A  short  distance  from  the  camp-fire  grew  a  num- 
ber of  small  trees.  Thure  and  Bud  were  now  taken 
to  these  trees;  and  each  lad  was  set  down  with  his 
back  to  the  trunk  of  a  tree  and  then  his  arms  were 
pulled  backward  around  the  trunk  and  his  hands 
securely  tied  behind  the  tree.  Then  a  stake  was 
driven  firmly  into  the  ground  between  their  feet 
and  each  ankle  tied  to  it.  The  trees  to  which  the 
boys  were  thus  fastened  were  about  six  feet  apart. 

"Say,"  Bud  remarked,  when  this  interesting  per- 
formance was  completed,  "come  to  think  about  it, 
I  have  concluded  that  I  wiM  not  escape  to-night.  So 
I  am  going  to  lay  my  head  back  against  my  downy 
tree  trunk  and  see  if  I  can't  get  some  sleep;  and 
you'd  better  do  the  same,  Thure." 

"Yes,"  growled  Thure  wrathfully,  "I  reckon  that 
is  all  we  can  do,  if  we  can  do  that.  Even  Kit  Car- 
son couldn't  escape  tied  up  the  way  we  are.  But, 
what  do  you  suppose  Padilla  will  do  with  us  ?  He 
— he  looked  as  if  he  might  do  anything,"  and  Thure 
shuddered.  "And,  worst  of  all,  father  or  Uncle 


294  Fighting  With  Fremont 

Frank  or  Rex  and  Dill  or  Ham  or  any  of  our  friends 
won't  even  know  that  we've  been  captured.  If  dad 
knew,  he'd  make  things  hot  for  Padilla ;  but  it  may 
be  days  before  any  of  them  find  out  that  the  Mex- 
icans have  got  us." 

"Padilla  won't  dare  do  us  any  real  hurt.  He 
must  treat  us  as  prisoners  of  war.  If  he  does,  he 
knows  that  every  American  in  California  will  be 
after  him." 

"Won't  he?"  and  Thure  shook  his  head  gloomily. 
"You  don't  know  Padilla.  Besides  there  is  war 
now ;  and  there  is  always  Mexico  for  him  to  flee  to. 
I  wish  I  could  get  free,"  and  he  gave  a  violent  but 
vain  tug  at  the  strong  cords  that  bound  his  hands 
behind  the  tree. 

At  this  moment  a  Mexican  approached  each  boy, 
with  a  bunch  of  dirty  rags  in  his  hand ;  and  signified 
that  if  he  did  not  stop  talking,  he  would  stuff  the 
rags  into  his  mouth. 

The  boys  stopped ;  and  the  remainder  of  the  night 
was  passed,  sitting  in  silence  with  their  backs  to  the 
trees.  Both  boys  slept  a  little  at  irregular  intervals, 
their  tired  heads  resting  on  their  chests ;  but  never 
were  two  boys  gladder  to  see  the  dawn  of  morning 
than  they  were. 

Not  until  the  sun  shone  down  into  the  little  cup- 
like  valley  did  the  Mexicans  stir  themselves.  Then 
Padilla  awoke,  jumped  to  his  feet,  glanced  swiftly 
in  the  direction  of  the  two  boys  and  proceeded  to 
awake  his  followers  by  passing  quickly  from  one  to 


Padilla  295 

another  and  giving  each  a  gentle  kick  as  he  passed. 
He  did  not  come  near  Thure  and  Bud  until  he  had 
eaten  his  breakfast.  Then  he  swaggered  up  in 
front  of  them  and  stopped. 

"Now  we  talk  more/*  he  said,  smiling  down  into 
Thure's  face,  "talk  about  what  I  do  with  you.  I 
think  maybe  hang,  good;  but,  no,  that  too  short. 
Maybe,"  and  his  eyes  glinted  cruelly,  "torture  bet- 
ter. Last  longer.  Yes,  I  think  torture  better. 
Now,  how  torture?"  and  he  paused,  as  if  to  con- 
sider just  what  form  of  torture  would  suit  their 
particular  case  best. 

"Oh,  any  old  way  you  please!"  Thure  broke  in 
scornfully.  "We  are  not  scared  of  your  torture — 
only  just  remember  that  Dad  and  Frank  Holt  and 
Hammer  Jones  and  Kit  Carson  and  a  lot  of  angry 
Americans  are  probably  hot  on  your  trail  even  now ; 
and  they  will  get  you  before  night  sure ;  and,  if  they 
find  that  you  have  harmed  a  hair  of  our  heads,  what 
they  did  to  you  in  the  Devil's  Trail  will  be  as — " 

"Pig!  I'll  show  you  how  I  fear  that  big  dad," 
and  Padilla,  his  face  white  with  wrath,  turned  to 
give  an  order,  doubtless  to  begin  the  torture,  when 
a  horseman  galloped  into  the  valley,  and,  pulling  up 
his  horse  in  front  of  Padilla,  saluted  and  handed 
him  a  paper. 

"From  General  Castro,"  he  said  in  Spanish. 

Padilla,  with  a  curse,  took  the  paper  and  quickly 
read  it.  Then,  with  more  curses,  he  turned  to  his 
men  and  ordered  them  to  saddle  up  at  once. 


296  Fighting  With  Fremont 

"Soon  we  talk  more,"  he  scowled  at  Thure,  and, 
turning  on  his  heel,  hurried  away  to  get  ready  for 
instant  departure. 

Whatever  General  Castro's  orders  were  they  must 
have  been  imperative;  for  seldom  had  Thure  and 
Bud  seen  Mexicans  move  as  lively  as  these  did  for 
the  next  few  minutes,  saddling  and  bridling  their 
horses,  packing  their  camp  equipage  and  getting 
everything  ready  for  the  start.  In  fifteen  minutes 
every  man  was  mounted,  including  Thure  and  Bud, 
who  were  given  two  scrubby-looking  horses  to  ride 
in  place  of  their  own  splendid  animals  and  told,  that, 
if  they  attempted  to  escape,  they  would  be  shot  on 
the  spot.  But  this  time  their  hands  were  not 
bound ;  and  both  lads  were  very  thankful  for  this. 

There  was  no  delay  in  getting  off.  Padilla  at 
once  gave  the  order;  and  they  rode  swiftly  out  of 
the  little  valley,  through  canyons  and  gullies  and 
deep  ravines,  until,  at  last,  they  came  out  into  the 
open  Valley  of  the  Sacramento.  Here  they  paused 
and,  after  a  short  consultation,  Padilla  at  the  head 
of  all  but  six  men,  who  were  left  to  guard  Thure 
and  Bud,  rode  off  swiftly  to  the  southward. 

"Now,  I  wonder  what  is  up  ?"  and  Bud's  eyes  fol- 
lowed the  departing  Mexicans  anxiously. 

"I  think  from  what  I  overheard,"  Thure  replied, 
"  that  they  are  after  some  Americans  that  they  have 
got  wind  of." 

"Well,  I  hope  tHey  don't  get  them,"  Bud  declared 
emphatically. 


Padilla  297 

"So  do  I;  and  I  guess  from  what  I  heard  that 
Castro's  express  was  to  let  Padilla  know  of  the 
capture  of  Sonoma  and  to  order  him  to  join  th6 
forces  of  Captain  de  la  Torre.  He'll  be  more  ugly 
than  ever  now." 

"Padilla  say  we  must  tie  your  hands  behind  your 
back,"  and  a  couple  of  the  men,  who  had  been  left  in 
charge  of  the  lads,  approached  Thure  and  Bud  and 
again  tightly  bound  their  hands  together  behind 
their  backs.  "He  also  say  you  must  no  talk,  or — " 
and  the  speaker  made  a  suggestive  gesture  toward 
a  dirty  bunch  of  rags  tied  to  the  pommel  of  his  sad- 
dle, one  glimpse  of  which  was  sufficient  to  cure  both 
boys  of  all  desire  for  further  talking. 

The  journey  was  now  resumed,  two  of  the  men 
riding  in  front  of  the  boys,  two  behind  them  and 
one  on  each'  side.  Evidently  they  did  not  intend  to 
take  any  chances  with  the  Americanos,  even  if  they 
were  only  boys. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

KILLING  OF  COWIE  AND  FOWLER 

ALL  day  long  their  captors  jogged  steadily  on; 
and,  when  night  came,  it  found  them  in  a  se- 
cluded little  valley,  shut  in  on  all  sides  by  low-lying 
hills.     Here  the  men  halted  and  at  once  prepared  to 
go  into  camp. 

Thure  and  Bud  dismounted  stiffly.  Their  wrists, 
where  they  were  bound  together  by  the  cords,  were 
very  much  swollen  and  pained  them  so  severely 
that  they  begged  the  Mexicans  to  untie  them  and, 
at  last,  prevailed  upon  them  to  do  so. 

"If  dad  ever  gets  hold  of  Padilla  again,  I  hope 
he  won't  let  him  off  with  just  a  licking."  Thure 
was  rubbing  his  aching  wrists  and  spoke  vehe- 
mently. "He  ought  to  be  hanged  and  quartered  and 
burned  and  shot  and  his  head  cut  off." 

"Is  that  all  ?"  and  Bud  smiled,  in  spite  of  his  own 
aches.  "I  thought  from  your  looks  that  you  were 
going  to  wish  that  something  real  dreadful  would 
happen  to  him.  Now,"  and  he  lowered  his  voice  to 
a  whisper,  so  that  the  guard,  who  stood  leaning  on 
his  rifle  not  a  dozen  feet  away,  could  not  hear  him, 
"we  must  try  to  escape  to-night,  while  there  are  so 
few  men  to  guard  us." 

298 


Killing  of  Cowie  299 

"Well,  I  reckon  we'll  have  to  do  it  pretty  sudden 
then/'  Thure  answered  dejectedly,  pointing  over 
Bud's  shoulder;  "for  there  comes  Padilla  and  his 
gang  of  cut-throats,  unless  my  eyes  fool  me." 

Bud  wheeled  quickly  around  and  glared  wrath- 
fully  at  the  body  of  horsemen  that  had  just  ridden  in 
sight  over  the  top  of  one  of  the  low  hills. 

"You  are  right,"  he  declared  disgustedly.  "And 
now  we  will  be  tied  up  so  tight  that  we  will  be  in 
luck  if  we  can  wink  an  eyelid — Look !  Look  there !" 
he  exclaimed  excitedly  a  moment  later.  "Just  be- 
hind Padilla !  They  have  got  two  prisoners !  Who 
can  they  be?" 

"I  know  one  of  them — yes,  both  of  them!"  and 
Thure  trembled  with  excitement.  "It  is  Mr.  Cowie 
and  Mr.  Fowler.  They  live  near  Sonoma." 

"Well,  we'll  have  company  in  our  misery  anyway ; 
and,"  Bud  lowered  his  voice,  "four  heads  ought  to 
be  better  than  two  in  planning  an  escape,  especially 
when  the  added  two  are  on  grown-up  shoulders." 
Bud  always  saw  the  brightest  side  of  anything. 

Evidently  Padilla  and  his  men  had  traveled  far 
and  were  very  tired.  At  least  all  of  them  were  in 
an  exceedingly  ugly  humor  and  all  were  greatly  ex- 
cited. The  moment  they  reached  the  camp  they 
flung  themselves  off  their  horses,  tied  the  two 
prisoners  to  trees  and  stationed  a  guard  over  them. 
Then  all,  except  the  ones  guarding  the  prisoners, 
gathered  about  Padilla  in  an  excited  gesticulating 
group.  Padilla  harangued  them,  with  many  loud 


300  Fighting  With  Fremont 

words  and  emphatic  gestures ;  but  they  were  too  far 
away  for  Thure  to  get  any  clear  idea  of  what  he  was 
saying.  He  frequently  caught  the  words  "Ameri- 
canos" and  "Sonoma"  and  "Captain  Fremont" ;  and 
judged  from  these  that  he  was  telling  them  of  the 
revolt  of  the  Americans  at  Sonoma  and  how  Cap- 
tain Fremont  and  the  United  States  was  probably 
back  of  it  all.  The  speech  was  greeted  with  yells 
of  approval  and  cries  of  "Down  with  the  Ameri- 
canos!" "Drive  them  out  of  California,  off  the 
ground  of  Mexico !"  and  many  angry  looks  and  ges- 
tures in  the  direction  of  the  two  boys  and  of  Cowie 
and  Fowler. 

"What  is  all  the  excitement  about?"  and  Bud 
turned  an  anxious  face  to  Thure.  "Sounds  like  a 
convention  of  coyotes." 

Thure  gave  him  all  the  light  he  could  on  the  mat- 
ter. 

"Begins  to  look  a  little  squally  for  us,"  he  ended 
apprehensively.  "I  wish  we  could  speak  with 
Cowie  and  Fowler." 

But  his  wish  was  vain.  They  were  not  allowed 
to  go  near  the  two  men  or  to  speak  a  word  to  them. 

After  Padilla's  harangue  was  completed,  the  men 
gathered  in  little  excited  groups;  and,  for  half  an 
hour  or  more,  appeared  to  be  talking  things  over 
among  themselves.  Then  they  became  more  quiet 
and  set  about  their  neglected  camp  duties. 

Padilla  himself,  after  a  scowling  glance  in  the 
direction  of  Thure  and  Bud,  which  was  quickly  fol- 


Killing  of  Cowie  301 

lowed  by  an  order  to  tie  them  to  trees,  as  they  had 
been  tied  the  night  before,  threw  himself  down  on 
his  blanket,  like  a  man  completely  worn-out. 

Both  boys  breathed  easier  at  sight  of  this  action 
of  Padilla. 

"Thank  goodness,  we  are  to  be  spared  a  closer 
view  of  his  ugly  face,  for  a  little  while  at  least," 
Thure  breathed  fervently.  "My,  but  wouldn't  I 
like  to  punch  him  one  in  the  nose !  The  brute !  We 
were  safe  enough  without  being  tied  up  in  this  cruel 
manner.  But,  just  wait  till  dad  and  Uncle  Frank 
and  Rex  and  Dill  and  Hammer  Jones  get  hold  of 
him!" 

"Stop  that  pig's  grunting!"  and  Padilla  half 
arose  from  his  blanket  and  glowered  at  Thure.  "If 
he  open  mouth  again,  stuff  full  of  old  rags,"  and  he 
sank  back  on  his  blanket. 

Of  course  that  ended  all  talk  between  the  two 
boys  for  the  night. 

When  the  Mexicans  had  eaten  all  they  wished 
themselves,  they  untied  the  prisoners  and  gave  them 
each  a  chunk  of  meat  and  a  couple  of  dry  cakes ;  and 
then,  after  they  had  eaten,  retied  them  to  the  trees 
and,  placing  a  guard  over  them  and  the  camp, 
rolled  themselves  up  in  their  blankets  and  were 
soon  sleeping  the  sleep  of  tired  men. 

The  next  morning  Thure  and  Bud  were  so  stiff 
and  sore  that  they  could  hardly  move;  and,  judging 
from  their  looks  and  acts,  their  fellow  prisoners 
were  in  the  same  unpleasant  condition.  The  boys 


302  Fighting  With  Fremont 

were  still  kept  separate  from  the  two  men;  but  all 
were  untied  and  allowed  to  rub  and  stretch  their 
sorely  abused  limbs. 

Padilla,  as  soon  as  a  hurriedly  prepared  break- 
fast had  been  eaten,  gave  the  order  to  saddle  up  and 
soon  the  whole  body  was  in  motion,  the  prisoners  all 
riding  together  near  the  center  of  the  company. 

Now,  for  the  first  time,  the  boys  had  a  chance  to 
talk  with  Cowie  and  Fowler ;  and  learned  that  they 
had  been  captured  while  on  their  way  from  Sonoma 
to  Bodega.  They  said  that  there  was  a  report  that 
General  Castro  was  hurrying  northward  at  the  head 
of  a  large  army  of  Mexican  soldiers;  and  that, 
doubtless,  Padilla  had  been  ordered  to  rush  south- 
ward as  fast  as  he  could  with  what  soldiers  he  had 
with  him  to  meet  this  army. 

"But,  if  Captain  Fremont  will  only  take  command 
of  the  Americans,"  Cowie  declared,  "so  that  all  can 
have  confidence  in  their  leader,  there  are  not  enough 
Mexican  soldiers  in  all  California  to  drive  us  out; 
and  those  who  ought  to  know  say,  that  that  is  just 
what  Fremont  will  do  when  the  proper  time  comes. 
But,  how  did  you  boys  happen  to  fall  into  the  hands 
of  Padilla?  Everybody  at  Sonoma  thinks  that  you 
are  in  the  camp  of  Fremont  by  now." 

With  a  face  that  flushed  with  shame,  but  without 
sparing  himself,  Thure  told  the  tale  of  their  capture. 

"Well,  I  don't  see  how  it  would  have  helped  mat- 
ters, if  you  had  kept  awake,"  Cowie  affirmed. 


Killing  of  Cowie  303 

"They  would  have  got  you  anyway,  dead  or  alive; 
and  alive  is  always  better  than  dead." 

"But,  now  that  they  have  got  us,  what  do  you 
suppose  they  will  do  with  us?"  Bud  asked  appre- 
hensively. "Padilla  is  a  natural  brute  and  he  has  a 
grudge  against  Thure,  and  his  soldiers  all  look  as 
if  they  were  escaped  eonvicts  and  this  trouble  at 
Sonoma  will  make  them  ugly." 

"I  don't  know,"  answered  Cowie,  a  troubled  look 
in  his  eyes.  "If  this  was  a  regular  detachment  of 
Mexican  soldiers  under  a  decent  officer,  I  would 
have  no  fears ;  but,  with  this  brute  Padilla  in  com- 
mand of  a  lot  of  men  who  come  nearer  to  being  cut- 
throats than  they  do  to  being  Mexican  soldiers,  al- 
though they  are  wearing  the  uniform,  heaven  only 
knows  what  they  will  do.  We  must  try  to  escape 
to-night,  if  possible." 

"Sure,"  and  Thure  spoke  with  wrathful  scorn, 
"we'll  escape  to-night.  All  that  we  will  have  to  do 
will  be  just  to  twist  our  mouths  around  to  the  back- 
side of  our  necks  and  gnaw  the  trees  down  to  which 
we  will  be  tied,  as  sure  as  that  brute,  Padilla,  is 
alive,"  and  he  scowled  fiercely  in  the  direction  of 
that  unworthy's  back,  which  could  be  seen  a  couple 
of  rods  in  advance ;  and,  as  if  in  answer  to  his  look, 
Padilla  turned  in  his  saddle  and  glared  back  at  him. 
Then  he  turned  and  spoke  angrily  to  a  subordinate 
officer  riding  by  his  side. 

The  officer  at  once  rode  back  to  where  the  prison- 


304  Fighting  With  Fremont 

ers  were  and  ordered  two  men  to  ride  by  the  side  of 
each  prisoner  and  to  see  that  there  was  no  more 
talking. 

"If  the  prisoners  refuse  to  obey,  gag  them,"  he 
said,  as  he  galloped  ahead  to  his  place  by  the  side 
of  Padilla. 

The  rest  of  the  journey  that  day  was  made  in 
silence,  so  far  as  Thure  and  Bud  and  their  fellow 
prisoners  were  concerned. 

That  night  something  seemed  to  have  gone  wrong 
with  Padilla,  for  he  was  in  a  particularly  bad  humor 
when  they  halted  to  go  into  camp.  He  swore  at  his 
men,  knocked  Cowie  down  with  the  flat  of  his 
sword,  because  the  American  called  him  a  brute  with 
a  heart  blacker  than  his  face,  and  stormed  about 
like  an  insane  man  or  a  melodramatic  stage  hero, 
heaping  all  kinds  of  verbal  abuse  upon  all  Ameri- 
cans, in  which  he  was  heartily  joined  by  his  men. 

This  was  more  than  the  American  manhood  of 
Cowie  and  Fowler  could  stand;  and  they  answered 
them  back  with  taunts  even  more  bitter  and  biting 
than  they  received,  because  of  the  truth  back  of 
them;  and,  almost  before  the  horrified  boys  could 
comprehend  what  was  going  on,  the  inflamed 
passions  of  the  Mexicans  broke  through  all  re- 
straints. Then  began  a  scene  of  horror  too  terrible 
for  words  to  describe  or  the  mind  to  picture.  The 
two  unfortunate  men,  still  anathematizing  and  de- 
fying their  tormentors,  were  tied  to  trees  and  tor- 


Killing  of  Cowie  305 

tured  to  death,  in  a  manner  that  would  have  made 
even  the  reddest  Indian  turn  away  in  disgust. 

Thure  and  Bud,  long  before  this  horrible  butch- 
ery came  to  an  end,  were  knocked  down  and  into  un- 
consciousness by  the  hand  of  Padilla  himself;  and 
thus  were  mercifully  spared  the  witnessing  of  the 
most  horrible  scenes  of  the  torture.  When  con- 
sciousness came  back  to  them,  the  two  men  were 
dead;  and  they  themselves  were  tied  to  trees,  with 
Padilla  standing  gloatingly  in  front  of  them. 

"Now,  your  turn,"  he  said,  shaking  his  fist  in 
Thure's  face.  "Now,  I  get  revenge  for  every 
blow,  every  whip-lash  your  father  hit  me.  Look 
there,"  and  he  pointed  to  the  mutilated  bodies  of 
Cowie  and  Fowler,  which  still  hung  to  the  trees. 
"Soon  you  be  like  them;  but  not  until  you  suffer. 
Ah-h-h,  not  until  you  suffer." 

"Go  ahead,  you  brute,"  and  Thure's  eyes  flashed 
out  of  his  white  face.  "You  dirty,  sneaking 
coward !  You  are  not  fit  to  wear  a  Digger  Indian's 
greasy  blanket.  Go  ahead ;  but  remember  you  are 
a  dead  man.  There  is  not  an  American  in  Cali- 
fornia who  won't  kill  you  on  sight  after  this." 

Padilla  could  control  himself  no  longer. 

"Pig!"  he  yelled,  and  raised  his  arm,  a  knife  al- 
ready stained  with  blood  clenched  in  his  fingers; 
but,  before  the  blow  could  fall,  a  huge  hand  gripped 
the  upraised  wrist  and  held  it  as  if  it  were  in  a  vise. 

Padilla,  with  a  yell  of  rage,  whirled  about  and 


306  Fighting  With  Fremont 

looked  into  the  angry  eyes  of  Four-fingered  Jack. 

"No — no!"  and  Four-fingered  Jack  shook  his 
head  vehemently.  "You  shall  not  hurt  the  boys. 
We  fight  men,  not  boys."  Even  his  brutal  nature 
had  revolted. 

For  a  minute  it  seemed  as  if  Padilla  would  turn 
his  wrath  upon  Four-fingered  Jack;  and  he  would, 
doubtless,  have  done  so,  if  he  had  not  caught  the 
muttered  threats  and  angry  expostulations  of  the 
men,  who  had  now  crowded  up  close  around  him 
and  Four-fingered  Jack,  and  glanced  quickly  into 
their  faces.  What  he  saw  there  told  him  that,  hard- 
ened villains  as  most  of  them  doubtless  were,  they 
would  not  stand  quietly  by  and  see  the  boys  killed, 
much  less  aid  in  the  killing.  They  could  butcher 
men ;  but  not  boys. 

"No — no;  you  shall  not  hurt  the  boys,"  repeated 
Four-fingered  Jack,  his  sullen  eyes  glowing.  "You 
shall  promise  not  to  hurt  the  boys ;  or  we  cut  their 
bonds  and  set  them  free.  Is  it  not  so,  men  ?" 

"Yes!  Yes!"  a  fozen  shouted  back.  "We  are 
not  butchers  of  boys,  even  if  they  are  Americanos." 

"You  promise?"  Four-fingered  Jack  still  held 
Padilla's  wrist. 

Padilla  glared  from  the  face  of  Four-fingered 
Jack  to  the  face  of  Thure,  with  something  of  the 
look  of  a  hyena  being  driven  from  his  prey;  and, 
seeing  that  it  would  be  useless  to  resist,  gave  a  sul- 
len assent. 

Four-fingered    Jack    dropped    his    wrist;    and 


Killing  of  Cowie  307 

Padilla,  with  an  angry  oath,  whirled  about  and 
strode  sullenly  away.  For  the  time  being,  he  had 
been  robbed  of  his  revenge;  but,  the  look  on  his 
face,  as  he  turned  away,  if  it  said  anything,  said  that 
it  was  only  for  the  time  being. 

"If  you  will  untie  my  hands,  I'll  shake  hands  with 
you,"  Thure  said,  his  voice  trembling  just  a  little; 
for  the  ordeal  through  which  he  had  just  passed  had 
been  a  terrible  one  for  nerves  as  young  as  his  to 
withstand. 

Four-fingered  Jack  grinned ;  and,  after  a  few  min- 
utes' consultation  with  the  men,  stepped  forward  and 
unfastened  both  boys  from  the  trees. 

Thure  promptly  kept  his  word  and  gripped  the 
huge  hand  that  had  stayed  the  murderous  knife. 

"I'll  tell  dad  and  the  rest  that  you  saved  our 
lives,"  he  said,  as  he  shook  the  hand ;  "and,  I  reckon, 
that'll  help  you  some,  when  they  get  hold  of  Padilla 
and  his  men." 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE  LITTLE  GROVE  OF  BRUSHWOOD 

FOR  the  first  night  since  their  capture,  Thure 
and  Bud  were  not  bound  to  trees  that  night; 
but,  to  the  amusement  of  the  men  and  to  their  own 
chagrin,  each  lad  was  rolled  up  in  a  blanket  and 
then  a  lasso  was  tightly  wound  around  the  blanket 
and  securely  tied.  This  prevented  their  escaping 
as  effectually  as  did  the  tree-tying  and  was  a  great 
deal  more  comfortable  way  of  sleeping,  although  it 
still  left  much  in  the  way  of  ease  and  comfort  to 
be  desired. 

"Say,  but  you  do  look  like  an  Egyptian  mummy," 
and  Bud  grinned  at  Thure,  who  lay  five  or  six  feet 
from  him.  "Stop  your  frowning.  That  spoils  the 
effect.  Mummies  don't  frown.  Close  your  eyes. 
There,  old  Pharaoh  himself  couldn't  look  more  nat- 
ural. One  would  really  think  you  were  alive." 

"Well,  if  I  don't  make  a  handsomer  mummy  than 
you  do,"  Thure  returned,  "they'll  never  put  me  in  a 
glass  case  in  a  museum  for  folks  to  look  at.  I  never 
knew  you  were  so  homely  before,"  and  the  grin  that 
followed  the  words  took  away  their  sting. 

Neither  boy  spoke  a  word  of  Cowie  or  Fowler. 
They  could  not.  And  this  little  attempt  at  pleas- 

308 


The  Little  Grove  309 

antry  was  but  an  effort  to  drive  the  horrible  scene 
from  their  thoughts.  Even  the  brutal  Mexican 
soldiers  seemed  to  be  strangely  affected.  They 
stole  silently  about  the  camp;  or,  when  they  did 
speak,  they  spoke  in  low  voices,  and  cast  apprehen- 
sive glances  out  into  the  surrounding  darkness,  as 
if  they  were  fearful  that  some  dreadful  thing  might 
be  walking  there. 

Padilla  did  not  come  near  the  boys;  but  retired 
early  and  sullenly  to  his  blanket,  where,  let  us  hope, 
he  passed  a  miserable  phantom-haunted  night. 

The  next  morning  everybody  awoke  early;  and, 
after  eating  a  hurriedly  prepared  breakfast,  Padilla 
and  his  soldiers  and  their  prisoners  made  all  possi- 
ble haste  to  get  away  from  that  accursed  spot, 
the  superstitious  Mexicans  casting  apprehensive 
glances  behind  them,  even  in  the  clear  light  of  the 
early  morning,  as  they  rode  out  of  the  little  valley 
where  the  horrible  scenes  had  been  enacted. 

Padilla,  however,  had  recovered  his  usual  cynical 
cheerfulness;  and,  just  before  mounting,  he  had 
walked  up  to  the  two  boys. 

"Sometime  soon  we  talk  again,"  he  had  said,  his 
evil  eyes  glinting  and  his  thin  lips  drawing  over  his 
white  teeth  in  a  cur  smile,  "when  only  you  and  I 
near  to  listen.  Then,"  and  his  long  fingers  had 
clenched  themselves  suggestively,  "I  make  talk 
much  interesting.  Now  we  go  join  more  Mexican 
soldiers,  who  soon  drive  all  Americanos  out  of  Cali- 
fornia. Not  one  living  Americano  shall  we  leave 


310  Fighting  With  Fremont 

in  California,"  and,  with  this  boast,  he  had  hurried 
away  to  mount  his  horse. 

Neither  boy  had  answered  him  a  word.  They 
had  only  looked  at  him  and  pointed  to  the  trees, 
where  the  hideous  things  that  yesterday  had  been 
two  living,  breathing  men,  still  hung ;  and,  even  the 
face  of  Padilla  had  whitened,  as  he  had  hurried 
from  them. 

That  night  they  reached  the  Santa  Rosa  Plains, 
where  they  were  joined  by  Captain  Joaquin  de  la 
Torre,  with  seventy  armed  Mexican  soldiers.  For 
a  day  or  two  the  boys  were  kept  here,  closely 
guarded.  Then,  one  afternoon,  a  couple  of  scouts 
galloped  into  camp  and  reported  something  that 
threw  the  whole  encampment  into  great  excitement. 
For  a  few  minutes  there  was  an  excited  Babel  of 
voices,  out  of  which  Thure  could  get  nothing  under- 
standable; and  then  all  made  a  rush  for  their  sad- 
dles and  horses,  and,  in  less  than  half  an  hour,  the 
whole  body  of  men  were  mounted. 

"I  wonder,"  and  Thure's  eyes  sparkled  and  his 
face  flushed,  as  he  turned  to  Bud,  who  sat  on  a 
horse  close  by  his  side,  and  whispered  excitedly, 
"if  all  this  hurry  doesn't  mean  that  the  Americans 
are  on  our  trail.  Maybe  it  is  Dad  and  Uncle  Frank 
and  Rex  and  Hammer  Jones,  with  Captain  Fre- 
mont and  Kit  Carson  back  of  them!  Something 
has  surely  happened  to  frighten  the  Mexicans. 
Oh,  I  hope  that  it  is;  and  that  they  get  Padilla,  if 
they  do  not  get  another  Mexican !" 


The  Little  Grove  311 

"Yes,  it  must  be  that!"  and  Bud's  face  and  eyes 
glowed  with  hope  and  excitement.  "I  knew  that 
our  dads  would  lose  no  time  in  getting  on  our  trails, 
once  they  knew  of  our  capture.  Oh,  if  it  only  is, 
and,  if  they  only  get  a  hold  of  that  Padilla,  I'll  be 
the  happiest  boy  in  all  California!  But,"  and  he 
leaned  forward  until  his  mouth  was  close  to  Thure's 
ear  and  lowered  his  voice  so  that  the  nearest  soldier 
could  not  hear,  "can't  we  do  something  to  let  them 
know  that  they  are  on  the  right  trail  for  sure? 
Like—" 

At  that  moment  a  hand  caught  Bud  by  the  shoul- 
der and  roughly  jerked  him  upright  in  his  saddle 
and  another  man  pushed  his  horse  between  the 
horses  of  the  two  boys,  effectually  stopping  all  fur- 
ther communication  between  them.  But  a  glance 
from  Thure's  eyes  told  Bud  that  his  words  had  been 
understood.  An  instant  later  the  command  to  start 
was  given  and  the  troop  of  horsemen  galloped  rap- 
idly off,  in  the  direction  of  San  Rafael,  as  near  as 
Thure  could  calculate. 

As  they  rode  along  both  boys  tried  to  think  of 
something  they  could  do,  which  would  tell  their 
fathers  that  they  were  on  the  right  trail ;  for  neither 
of  the  lads  doubted  that  it  was  the  coming  of  Amer- 
icans that  had  sent  the  Mexicans  off  in  such  a  hurry, 
nor  that  their  fathers  were  with  them.  But,  on 
each  side  of  each  lad  rode  a  Mexican  soldier,  whose 
watchful  eyes  were  on  them  all  the  time;  and  the 
most  that  either  lad  could  do  was  to  twist  off  a  cou- 


312  Fighting  With  Fremont 

pie  of  buttons  from  his  coat  and  drop  them,  hoping 
that  the  keen  eyes  of  some  of  the  following  Ameri- 
cans would  find  them  and  that  Mr.  Conroyal  or 
Mr.  Randolph  would  recognize  them  as  having 
come  from  the  coat  of  his  son. 

Even  when  night  came  the  Mexicans  did  not  stop, 
but  pushed  on  as  fast  as  their  horses'  legs  and  the 
darkness  permitted.  This  made  the  two  boys  feel 
more  sure  than  ever  that  their  reasoning  had  been 
correct,  and  told  them  that  the  chase  was  a  close 
one,  and  kept  them  intensely  excited  through  the 
long  ride  of  the  dark  night;  for  the  cracks  of  the 
pursuing  Americans'  rifles  might  come  at  any  mo- 
ment !  Besides,  if  the  slightest  opportunity  offered 
to  slip  away  in  the  darkness,  they  intended  to  take 
it. 

However,  not  a  suspicious  sign  or  sound  broke 
the  silence  of  the  night;  and,  as  soon  as  it  had  be- 
come dark,  Padilla  himself  had  taken  his  station 
directly  behind  Thure  and  Bud,  grinning  at  them 
until  his  white  teeth  showed  in  a  hyena  smile,  as 
he  did  so,  and  had  kept  the  place  all  night;  and, 
with  the  feel  of  his  cruel  eyes  on  them,  all  thought 
of  escape  that  night  had  left  the  two  lads. 

A  little  after  sunrise  the  next  morning  the  Mexi- 
cans came  to  a  rude  house,  built  on  the  edge  of  a 
plain  some  seventy-five  yards  from  a  small  grove  of 
brushwood;  and  now,  feeling  confident  that  they 
had  both  outwitted  and  outmarched  their  pursuers, 
the  Mexicans  halted  here  to  eat  their  breakfast  and 


The  Little  Grove  313 

to  give  their  tired  horses  a  short  rest  and  to  allow 
them  to  feed  on  the  grass. 

Thure  and  Bud  and  a  number  of  other  Ameri- 
cans, who  had  been  taken  prisoners  by  Captain  de  la 
Torre,  were  shut  up  in  the  house,  which  was  built 
of  adobe,  with  small  narrow  windows  and  but  one 
door ;  and  a  couple  of  soldiers  were  stationed  at  the 
door  to  keep  guard  over  them.  One  of  the  win- 
dows looked  out  in  the  direction  of  the  little  grove 
of  brushwood.  Thure  and  Bud  at  once  made  for 
this  window,  while  the  other  prisoners,  tired  with 
their  long  ride,  threw  themselves  down  on  the  floor 
near  the  middle  of  the  single  room  the  building  con- 
tained. 

"They  don't  know  Americans  like  Dad  and  Uncle 
Frank  and  Rex  and  Dill  and  Hammer  Jones  as 
well  as  we  do,"  Thure  said,  as  the  two  boys  peered 
anxiously  out  of  the  window  in  the  direction  of  the 
little  grove,  "or  they  would  not  be  so  careless  as  to 
stop,  even  to  eat  breakfast,  within  such  a  short  dis- 
tance of  such  a  fine  hiding-place.  Why,  if  dad  and 
the  rest  are  after  them,  they  can  crawl  up  into  that 
grove  and  take  pot-shots  at  them !" 

"Sure,"  agreed  Bud;  "but,  I  reckon,  the  IVIexies 
think  the  Americans  won't  have  the  pluck  or  the 
skill  to  follow  their  trail  during  the  night.  Just  as 
if  a  little  thing  like  that  would  bother  old  trappers 
and  hunters,  like  our  dads  and  Frank  Holt  and 
Hammer  Jones  and  Rex  and  Dill,"  and  Bud  smiled 
scornfully. 


314  Fighting  With  Fremont 

"Why,  Kit  Carson  or  Hammer  Jones  could  fol- 
low such  a  trail  as  we  made  in  the  pitch  dark;  and 
it  lacked  a  lot  of  being  that  dark  last  night,"  and 
Thure  returned  Bud's  smile.  "I  should  not  be  at 
all  surprised,  if  they  were  creeping  up  behind  that 
grove  right  now.  Jimminny,  but  won't  they  make 
things  lively  for  the  Mexicans,  if  they  are?" 

"You  bet!"  was  Bud's  emphatic  reply.  "But, 
they  will  have  to  be  getting  here  soon,  or  they'll  find 
the  game  gone,"  and  his  eyes  turned  anxiously  to 
the  Mexicans,  who  were  hurrying  along  their 
breakfast  preparations  in  a  way  that  told  him  that 
their  stay  there  would  be  short. 

"Hi,  thar,  boys !"  now  called  one  of  the  prisoners, 
an  old  hunter.  "Any  signs  of  any  grub?  I'm 
hungry  enough  tew  eat  beaver  skins,  hair  an'  all." 

"Yes,"  Thure  laughed  back,  "there  are  plenty  of 
signs  of  something  to  eat,  but  none  of  them  point 
this  way." 

"They  don't,  hey!"  and  the  old  hunter  clenched 
one  of  his  big  fists.  "Wai,  if  they  don't  start  some- 
thin'  that  looks  like  eatin'  our  way  afore  long,  I'll 
begin  on  that  Mexie,  tough  as  he  looks.  So  help 
me  Moses,  if  I  don't!"  and  he  glared  so  fiercely  at 
one  of  the  Mexican  guards,  who  at  that  moment 
had  thrust  his  head  in  the  doorway,  that  the  fellow 
jerked  it  back  in  startled  fright. 

"He  must  have  thought  that  you  were  going  to 
start  right  off,"  grinned  Thure,  as  the  head  sud- 
denly vanished.  "I — "  and  then  he  felt  the  sudden 


The  Little  Grove  315 

grip  of  Bud's  hand  on  his  arm  and  turned  quickly 
to  the  window. 

"Look,  look  there!"  Bud  whispered  excitedly. 
"There  near  the  center  of  the  grove,  where  the 
brush  is  thin.  I  am  sure  I  saw  something  moving 
among  the  bushes,  something  big  like  a  man. 
There,  there  it  is  again!  Two — three — four  of 
them!  Oh,  if  it  only  is  Dad  and  the  rest!" 

"It  is !  It  must  be !"  and  Thure's  face  was  white 
as  milk.  "Now,  if  the  Mexicans  do  not  discover 
them  until  they  all  get  into  position,"  and  he  turned 
his  eyes  anxiously  to  his  captors,  who  were  moving 
busily  about  the  camp,  too  intent  on  getting  some- 
thing to  eat  to  take  much  notice  of  what  was  going 
on  around  them — "Ah-h-h!" 

At  that  moment  a  Mexican,  who  happened  to  be 
standing  facing  the  grove,  uttered  a  startled  yell 
and  whirled  about.  But,  before  the  yell  had  fully 
left  his  mouth,  he  spun  around  on  both  feet  and  fell 
headlong  to  the  ground.  At  the  same  instant  the 
excited  boys  saw  a  dozen  or  more  puffs  of  smoke 
dart  out  from  among  the  bushes  of  the  grove  and 
heard  the  crack!  crack!  of  rifles  and  the  shouts  of 
American  voices. 

"Americanos!  Americanos!"  yelled  the  startled 
Mexicans,  jumping  for  their  guns  and  rushing 
madly  to  shelter.  In  a  moment  the  one  room  in 
the  little  house  was  crowded  almost  to  suffocation 
with  cursing,  wildly-excited  Mexicans.  However, 
the  officers  quickly  rallied  the  men;  and  a  sergeant, 


316  Fighting  With  Fremont 

at  the  head  of  the  bravest,  gallantly  charged  the 
grove. 

During  all  this  excitement  Thure  and  Bud  had 
kept  their  white  faces  glued  to  the  window,  forget- 
ful or  careless  of  the  risk  they  were  running  of 
being  shot  unknowingly  by  their  friends. 

"They  can't  do  it!  They  can  never  drive  them 
from  the  woods!"  Thure  exclaimed,  when  he  saw 
the  sergeant  and  his  men  charging  so  bravely ;  and 
yet  the  anxiety  in  his  voice  belied  the  confidence  his 
words  expressed.  There  might  not  be,  there  could 
not  be,  judging  from  the  shots,  over  a  couple  of 
dozen  of  the  Americans;  and  the  Mexicans  were 
eighty-six  strong,  four  to  one!  Consequently,  it 
was  with  the  keenest  of  anxiety  that  the  eyes  of 
both  boys  watched  that  charging  line. 

Half  of  the  distance  was  passed  on  the  run ;  half 
a  dozen  men  had  fallen;  but  still,  led  by  the  brave 
sergeant,  they  rushed  on. 

"Oh,  if  we  only  had  our  guns !  If  we  could  only 
do  something  to  help !"  mourned  Thure,  almost  be- 
side himself  with  anxiety  and  excitement.  "It  is 
terrible  to  be  cooped  up  in  here  and  unable  to  lift  a 
helping  hand,  while  our  friends  are  fighting  for  our 
lives — their  own  lives — Ah-h-h!  They  have  got 
him!"  he  cried,  as  the  sergeant  crumpled  up  and 
plunged  to  the  ground.  "They  are  breaking! 
They  are  on  the  run!  Hurrah,  we  have  licked 
them!  Now,  we — " 

A  strong  hand  jerked  him  rudely  from  the  win- 


The  Little  Grove  317 

dow.  At  the  same  moment  another  hand  jerked 
Bud  from  the  window.  And  both  boys  turned  to 
find  themselves  in  the  grip  of  two  big  Mexicans, 
with  Padilla,  his  drawn  sword  in  his  hand,  stand- 
ing within  arm-reach  of  them,  his  little  black  eyes 
gleaming  into  their  faces  like  the  eyes  of  an  angry 
snake. 

"Quick !"  he  called  to  the  two  men  who  had  hold 
of  the  boys.  "Drag  them  with  you.  If  they  offer 
too  much  resistance,  knock  them  senseless,"  and 
placing  himself  at  their  head,  he  forced  an  opening 
for  them  through  the  crowd,  prodding  those  who 
-did  not  get  out  of  his  way  quick  enough,  with  his 
naked  sword. 

Thure  and  Bud  yelled  and  struggled  with  all 
their  might,  until  each  received  a  blow  on  his  head 
with  the  butt  of  a  heavy  pistol  that  stopped  all  his 
yelling  and  struggling  for  the  time  being. 

When  the  boys  again  recovered  consciousness, 
they  hung  across  the  pommels  of  the  saddles  of  the 
two  big  Mexicans,  who  were  urging  their  horses 
over  the  level  of  the  valley  at  their  utmost  speed. 
In  front  of  them  galloped  Padilla ;  and  close  behind 
them  they  heard  the  hoof-thuds  of  a  number  of  gal- 
loping horses,  while,  from  a  great  distance,  came 
the  sound  of  the  cheering  of  men — the  shouts  of  the 
victorious  Americans. 

For  half  an  hour  their  captors  galloped  on,  with- 
out slacking  the  speed  of  their  horses  in  the  least ; 
and  then  they  halted  long  enough  in  a  little  grove  of 


318  Fighting  With  Fremont 

trees  to  place  Thure  and  Bud  each  on  the  back  of 
an  extra  horse,  which  they  had  brought  with  them 
for  this  purpose.  The  change  was  a  most  agreeable 
one  to  the  boys;  for  every  bone  in  their  bodies  was 
aching  from  the  cramped  and  awkward  position  in 
which  they  had  hung  across  the  galloping  horses. 

Padilla,  the  moment  the  two  boys  were  in  their 
saddles,  rode  up  close  to  them. 

"Listen,"  he  said,  in  his  disjointed  English,  speak- 
ing rapidly.  "You  try  escape,  my  men  shoot — kill. 
No  try  escape,  not  hurt — not  now." 

"You  let  us  go  at  once,"  Thure  broke  in  angrily. 
It  had  been  a  terrible  blow  to  the  two  boys  to  be  thus 
carried  away  at  the  very  moment  the  victorious 
Americans  were  rushing  to  their  rescue,  and  their 
tempers  were  strained  to  the  breaking  point.  "If 
you  don't,  Kit  Carson  and  dad  and  Hammer  Jones, 
with  a  lot  of  good  men  back  of  them,  will  take  your 
trail ;  and  they  will  get  you.  I  don't  care  where  you 
take  us  or  what  you  do  with  us,  they  will  get 
you,  you  cowardly,  black-faced  Mexican  skunk! 
You—" 

At  a  motion  of  Padilla's  hand,  one  of  the  men 
thrust  a  dirty  piece  of  blanket  into  Thure's  mouth, 
abruptly  choking  back  his  wrathful  words. 

"No  time  talk  now,"  Padilla  snarled.  "But 
soon,  when  I  get  where  no  Kit  Carson,  no  big  dad, 
no  big  Hammer  Jones  can  find,  then  I  talk,  then  I 
talk,"  and  the  venomous  eyes  that  glared  into 
Thure's  eyes  seemed  almost  capable  of  ejecting  poi- 


The  Little  Grove  319 

son.  "Now,  we  must  ride  swift.  Forward!"  and 
he  struck  spurs  into  his  horse  and  galloped  off,  fol- 
lowed by  his  men,  with  Thure  and  Bud  riding  in 
their  midst,  their  horses  lashed  to  the  right  speed  by 
the  men  riding  by  their  sides. 

There  were  twelve  men  with  Padilla ;  and  a  glance 
into  their  faces  told  the  boys  that  all  were  of  the 
lowest  type  of  the  Mexican  soldier,  which  meant 
that  most  of  them  had  been  criminals  in  Mexico, 
who  had  been  sent  to  serve  as  soldiers  in  California, 
instead  of  to  jail,  to  be  a  public  expense,  in  Mexico. 
All  were  well  mounted  and  armed ;  and,  led  by  Pa- 
dilla on  a  large  black  horse,  rode  as  if  they  feared 
death  was  following  hard  on  their  trail. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

IN   THE    CAVE  OF  THE  DEAD 

ALL  through  that  long  day  Thure  and  Bud 
cast  longing  glances  backward  over  the  trail, 
hoping  to  see  some  signs  of  the  pursuit  that  both 
felt  sure  must  be  riding  hard  after  them;  but  the 
sight  of  no  galloping  horsemen  gladdened  their  eyes 
and  their  hopes  sank  with  the  sun. 

"  I  am  sure,"  Thure  said  dejectedly,  when  at  last 
long  after  sundown  Padilla  ordered  a  halt,  to  rest 
their  tired  horses  and  to  get  something  to  eat,  "if 
our  dads  were  along  with  the  Americans  they  would 
have  started  on  our  trail  the  moment  they  found  out 
that  Padilla  had  carried  us  off  with  him.  Just  be- 
fore I  was  knocked  senseless  I  saw  the  old  hunter 
and  he  saw  us  struggling  in  the  hands  of  Padilla 
and  his  men ;  and  so  he  could  tell  what  had  become 
of  us." 

"Yes,"  agreed  Bud,  "if  he  escaped.  But,  maybe, 
the  Mexicans  got  away  with  all  of  the  prisoners." 

"I  don't  believe  they  did,"  Thure  declared,  "be- 
cause, just  as  I  was  jerked  away  from  the  window, 
I  saw  the  Americans  charging  out  of  the  woods,  and 
I  don't  believe  the  Mexicans,  as  badly  scared  as  they 
were,  would  stop  for  anything  until  they  were 
320 


The  Cave  of  the  Dead  321 

out  of  reach  of  the  rifles  of  those  charging  men. 
They  must  have  got  on  the  wrong  trail;  or  else  our 
dads  were  not  with  the  Americans.  Say,  but  it  was 
hard  luck  to  have  Padilla  grab  us  just  at  that  mo- 
ment," and  his  face  clouded. 

"  Yes,  it  sure  was  tough  luck,  just  when  our 
friends  were  about  to  rescue  us;  but,"  and  Bud's 
face  brightened,  "we'll  get  the  best  of  Padilla  yet. 
Just  keep  up  your  pluck  and  see  if  we  don't.  Now," 
and  he  lowered  his  voice.  (A  swift  glance  around 
had  told  him  that  none  of  the  Mexicans  stood  within 
hearing  of  low-spoken  words.)  "I  think  our  best 
plan  will  be  to  act  as  if  we  had  given  up  all  hope 
of  rescue  or  escape  and  to  do  as  little  as  we  can  to 
rile  the  temper  of  Padilla.  It  will  help  to  throw 
him  and  his  men  off  their  guard ;  and,  maybe,  they'll 
get  a  little  careless  and  give  us  a  chance  to  escape. 
So,  no  matter  what  Padilla  says  or  does,  let's  try 
and  not  show  any  temper ;  but  just  act  as  if  we  had 
lost  heart  completely  and  didn't  have  pluck  enough 
left  to  get  mad  at  anything." 

"  I  reckon  you  are  right,"  agreed  Thure ;  "  and 
I'll  jam  the  cork  down  tight  on  my  temper,  when 
Padilla  comes  near  me ;  but,"  and  he  gritted  his  teeth 
grimly,  "I'll  do  some  powerful  mad  thinking  inside 
of  me." 

"All  right,"  smiled  Bud;  "only  so  you  keep  the 
cork  in  and  don't  let  the  mad  thinking  out." 

At  this  moment  a  couple  of  the  Mexicans  came 
up  to  the  boys  with  a  little  food,  which  they  received 


322          t      Fighting  With  Fremont 

and  ate  in  dejected  silence,  not  altogether  assumed ; 
for  the  day  had  been  one  of  bitter  disappointments 
to  both  of  them  and  they  had  begun  to  fear  that 
their  fathers  had  lost  their  trail,  if,  indeed,  they  had 
been  on  it  at  all. 

However,  Padilla  evidently  still  dreaded  pursuit; 
for,  hardly  had  the  boys  eaten  their  last  mouthful 
of  food,  when  he  gave  the  order  to  mount,  and  the 
flight  was  resumed,  but  the  speed  was  much  slower 
now  on  account  of  the  darkness  of  the  night. 

All  night  long  the  tired  boys  were  compelled  to 
sit  in  their  saddles,  while  their  tired  horses  stum- 
bled along  over  the  rough  ground.  At  first  they 
tried  to  keep  track  of  the  route  they  were  going ;  but 
soon  they  became  so  tired  and  sleepy  that  they  could 
not  hold  their  minds  down  to  anything  and  lost  all 
sense  of  direction.  Indeed,  once  or  twice  they  fell 
asleep  in  their  saddles  and  might  have  fallen  from 
the  backs  of  their  horses,  if  they  had  not  been  rudely 
awakened  by  the  Mexican  soldiers  who  rode  close  to 
their  sides  jabbing  the  points  of  their  knives  into 
them.  The  sudden  start  of  pain  and  surprise  this 
caused  the  boys  to  give  always  brought  a  loud  laugh 
from  their  guards,  who  appeared  to  think  it  a  great 
joke.  The  boys,  although  they  could  feel  the  point 
of  the  knife,  could  not  see  the  point  of  the  joke ;  and 
it  required  all  their  self-control  to  keep  from  losing 
their  tempers  and  telling  the  knife- jabbers  exactly 
what  they  thought  of  them.  But,  somehow,  they 
managed  to  keep  the  corks  in  the  bottles  of  their 


The  Cave  of  the  Dead  323 

wrath  and  all  their  "mad  thinking"  inside  of  them 
and  to  act  as  if  they  did  not  have  left  enough  cour- 
age or  pluck  to  resent  anything. 

A  little  before  sunrise  they  entered  a  wild  and 
desolate  region  of  great  rocks  and  deep  canyons 
split  in  the  sides  of  mountains  whose  tops  were 
white  with  snow.  An  hour  later  they  rode  down 
into  a  deep  fissure,  with  walls  of  perpendicular  rock 
so  high  that  when  the  boys  looked  upward  all  they 
could  see  of  the  sky  was  a  narrow  ribbon  of  light 
that  did  not  appear  to  be  over  a  foot  wide.  For  a 
couple  of  miles  they  picked  their  way  along  the 
rough  bottom  of  this  fissure  and  stopped,  at  last,  in 
front  of  the  low  arched  mouth  of  a  cave. 

All  dismounted  here  and  Padilla  and  one  of  the 
men  entered  the  cave.  In  about  five  minutes  they 
returned,  each  carrying  a  bundle  of  pine  torches  un- 
der his  arm.  Then,  lighting  half  a  dozen  of  the 
torches,  which  were  distributed  among  the  Mexi- 
cans, Padilla  led  the  way  into  the  cave.  The  men 
followed  in  single  file,  each  man  leading  his  horse. 
For  a  long  distance,  some  three  hundred  paces  the 
boys  judged,  though  they  did  not  count  their  steps, 
the  top  of  the  cave  was  so  low  that  the  horses  were 
obliged  to  lower  their  heads  as  they  moved  along  and 
so  narrow  that  two  of  them  could  not  walk  abreast. 
Then,  suddenly,  this  passageway  widened  out  into  a 
lofty  and  broad  chamber,  with  a  smooth  sand-cov- 
ered floor  and  walls  and  ceiling  that  sparkled  in  the 
light  of  the  torches  as  if  incrusted  with  precious 


324  Fighting  With  Fremont 

jewels.  Here,  with  many  expressions  of  pleased 
satisfaction,  Padilla  and  his  men  halted  and  at  once 
set  about  making  themselves  as  comfortable  as  pos- 
sible. Evidently  they  had  reached  one  of  the  secret 
strongholds  of  the  band;  for,  scattered  around  on 
the  sand,  were  many  evidences  of  past  occupancy. 
But,  just  now,  all,  including  the  boys,  were  too  tired 
and  sleepy  to  take  much  note  of  anything;  and  the 
men,  it  will  be  remembered  that  now  they  had  been 
almost  constantly  on  the  backs  of  their  horses  for 
twenty-four  hours,  unsaddled  and  unbridled  their 
horses  as  quickly  as  possible,  threw  their  blankets 
down  on  the  sand,  and,  tumbling  down  on  top  of 
them,  were  sound  asleep  almost  as  soon  as  their 
bodies  touched  the  blankets. 

"We  must  try  and  keep  awake,"  Thure  whispered 
eagerly  to  Bud,  when  he  saw  the  tired  men  falling 
to  sleep  all  around  him.  "I  don't  believe  any  guard 
that  they  will  put  over  us  can  keep  awake;  and,  if 
they  do  not  tie  us  up  good  and  tight,  we  can  get 
away." 

"Yes,"  answered  Bud,  "but  we  must  make  them 
think  that  we  are  too  dead  tired  to  keep  our  eyes 
open  a  minute  and  pretend  to  fall  so  sound  asleep 
that  it  would  take  an  earthquake  to  awaken  us ;  and 
— and  if  Padilla  doesn't  look  out,  he'll  find  us  miss- 
ing when  he  wakes  up." 

But  Padilla  did  look  out — trust  him  for  that ;  for, 
at  the  moment  Bud  spoke  the  last  words,  both  boys 
saw  him,  followed  by  two  men,  one  of  whom  car- 


The  Cave  of  the  Dead  325 

ried  a  lighted  torch,  start  in  their  direction.  He 
stopped  directly  in  front  of  the  two  lads. 

"Too  tired  talk  now,"  he  said;  "but,  when  I  sleep 
and  you  sleep,  then  we  talk,  where  no  big  dad,  no 
big  Hammer  Jones  can  find.  Come ;  I  show  where 
sleep,"  and,  with  a  grin  on  his  evil  face,  he  motioned 
the  torchbearer  to  move  on. 

Thure  and  Bud,  without  a  word,  followed  the 
man  with  the  torch.  Behind  them  walked  Padilla 
and  the  other  man.  Straight  across  the  great 
chamber  walked  the  man,  to  where  a  black  opening 
not  much  larger  than  a  wolf  hole  showed  in  the 
wall  of  solid  rock,  and  stopped  in  front  of  the  hole. 

"There  your  bed  room,"  and,  chuckling,  Padilla 
pointed  to  the  hole.  "When  you  in,  we  shut  door 
by  rolling  big  rock  in  front  of  it,"  and  he  indicated 
a  huge  rock  that  lay  within  a  foot  of  the  entrance 
to  the  hole.  "Now,  crawl  in.  We  give  torch  for 
light,"  and,  at  a  nod  of  his  head,  the  man  holding 
the  torch  handed  it  to  Thure. 

Thure  took  the  torch  mechanically  and  stared  at 
the  hole  opening  hesitatingly.  Where  did  it  lead, 
that  dark  hole  in  the  bowels  of  the  mountain?  He 
did  not  like  the  look  on  the  face  of  Padilla,  as  he 
ordered  him  to  crawl  in,  nor  the  looks  of  the  two 
men  as  they  now  stood  grinning  at  him. 

"Go  in!"  and  Padilla  made  a  peremptory  mo- 
tion toward  the  mouth  of  the  hole.  "Go  in,  or  we 
push  you  in  without  light." 

"Willingly,"  and  Thure's  eyes  flashed  angrily 


326  Fighting  With  Fremont 

into  the  face  of  Padilla.  "Whatever  is  in  there,  it 
can't  be  worse  than  being  out  here  with  you,"  and, 
holding  the  torch  in  front  of  him,  be  bent  down 
and  began  to  crawl  into  the  opening. 

The  hole  was  oval  in  shape  and  just  large  enough 
to  enable  Thure  to  move  forward  comfortably  on 
his  hands  and  knees.  Ahead  of  him,  as  far  as  the 
light  of  the  torch  penetrated  the  darkness,  he  could 
see  nothing  but  the  opening  made  by  the  small  pas- 
sageway through  the  rocks.  He  heard  Bud  crawl- 
ing into  the  hole  behind  him  and  crept  on,  deter- 
mined to  go  as  far  as  he  could  while  he  had  the 
light  of  the  torch  to  show  him  where  he  was. 

"Follow  close  behind  me,"  he  called  back,  "and 
we  will  try  and  find  out  where  this  hole  leads  to." 

"Go  ahead.  I'm  coming,"  came  back  the  cheery 
voice  of  Bud.  "I'll  follow — ouch!  Say,  what  are 
you  stopping  for?  I  nearly  knocked  my  nose  out 
of  joint  on  the  heel  of  your  boot." 

Bud  was  not  half  as  easy  in  his  mind,  as  his  light 
talk  might  lead  you  to  believe.  He  was  trembling 
more  than  a  little  and  many  drops  of  cold  sweat 
stood  out  on  his  face  and  along  his  spinal  column; 
but,  I  am  sure,  none  of  you  boys  will  wonder  at  this, 
when  you  stop  to  think  where  he  and  Thure  were — 
creeping  along  through  a  little  black  hole,  hundreds 
of  feet  from  the  surface  of  the  earth  and  the  bright 
warm  sunlight,  not  knowing  what  horror  the  next 
moment  might  reveal. 

Thure  had  uttered  a  startled  exclamation,  as  Bud 


The  Cave  of  the  Dead  327 

spoke;  and  the  next  instant  the  horrified  boy  saw 
the  light  and  his  friend's  body  suddenly  drop  from 
sight.  For  a  moment  he  was  too  terrified  to  utter 
a  word,  to  make  a  move,  then  his  voice  rang  out  in 
a  piercing  shriek. 

"Thure !  Thure !  where  are  you  ?  What  has  hap- 
pened?" he  called. 

But,  not  a  sound  came  from  the  vanished  boy! 
Only,  now  Bud  had  enough  of  his  wits  back  to  no- 
tice that  the  light  of  the  torch  still  shone  ahead  of 
him,  although  the  torch  itself  was  out  of  sight. 
Evidently  Thure  had  not  fallen  far.  But,  why  was 
he  silent? 

With  every  muscle  in  his  young  body  quivering 
with  dread,  Bud  crept  forward  to  find  out  what  had 
happened ;  and,  suddenly,  found  his  head  thrust  out 
into  a  little  chamber  hollowed  out  of  the  solid  rock. 
The  room  was  not  over  twenty  feet  across  and,  per- 
haps, as  many  feet  high.  The  floor  was  some  seven 
feet  below  the  opening  where  Bud  lay  staring  down 
on  the  white  face  of  Thure,  who  stood  near  the  cen- 
ter of  the  room,  the  torch  held  rigidly  in  his  hand 
and  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  room, 
where,,  with  their  backs  propped  against  the  wall, 
sat,  grinning,  the  mummified  bodies  of  four  men 
and  two  women. 

Both  boys  understood  now  the  look  on  Padilla's 
face,  when  he  had  driven  them  into  the  hole  and 
why  he  had  given  them  the  lighted  torch,  which 
soon  would  burn  out  and  leave  them  alone  with  the 


328  Fighting  With  Fremont 

dead  in  a  darkness  greater  than  that  of  the  bottom- 
less pit. 

Silently  Bud  dropped  to  the  floor  by  the  side  of 
Thure  and  placed  a  trembling  hand  upon  his  shoul- 
der. 

"Horrible,"  he  murmured.  "This  is  horrible! 
What  can  it  mean?" 

"It  means,"  and  Thure  turned  a  face  to  him  from 
which  every  drop  of  red  blood  seemed  to  have  fled, 
"that,  in  a  few  days  we  will  be  sitting  by  their  sides, 
with  our  backs  against  the  wall  and  our  shrunken 
eyes  staring  out  into  the  darkness.  This  is  our 
tomb!  This  is  Padilla's  revenge!" 

"No,  no.  It  cannot  be  that.  Come,  let  us  hurry 
back  through  the  tunnel,"  and  Bud  gripped  Thure 
fiercely  by  the  arm.  "Even  Padilla  could  not  be  so 
cruel  as  to  leave  us  here  to  die  a  horrible  death  by 
the  side  of  the  horrible  dead.  Come,"  and,  pulling 
Thure,  he  started  toward  the  opening  whence  the 
two  boys  had  entered. 

"Look !"  and  Thure  suddenly  jerked  himself  free 
from  Bud's  hand  and  pointed  with  trembling  finger 
to  the  flame  of  the  torch.  "See  the  blaze  of  the 
torch!  It  is  moved  by  a  current  of  air  and  away 
from  the  opening  through  which  we  came.  There 
may  be  another  way  out  than  the  way  we  came  in. 
Quick;  let  us  look  while  we  have  the  light  of  the 
torch  to  aid  us." 

"You  are  right,"  and  Bud's  eyes  fairly  glowed 
with  excitement.  "  The  blaze  points  right  over 


The  Cave  of  the  Dead  329 

there,  where  that  little  pile  of  rocks  is,"  and  he 
sprang  across  the  room  to  a  little  heap  of  rocks 
that  lay  piled  against  one  of  the  walls  of  the  cave 
and  began  frantically  throwing  the  rocks  aside. 
"You  hold  the  torch  and  I'll  see  what  there  is  here." 

Some  of  the  rocks  were  large,  all  that  Bud  could 
lift,  and  it  was  fully  ten  minutes  before  he  came  to 
the  last  one,  a  large  flat  stone  a  good  six  feet  across. 
This  he  vainly  tried  to  move  for  a  minute. 

"You'll  have  to  help  me,  Thure.  Put  down  your 
torch  and  give  me  a  hand,"  and,  panting  with  his 
exertions,  Bud  turned  a  flushed  face  to  Thure. 

Thure  quickly  set  the  torch  up  between  two  stones 
and  gripped  the  flat  rock  close  by  the  side  of  Bud's 
hands. 

"Now,  when  I  count  three,  lift  all  together,"  he 
said.  "One— two— THREE!  LIFT!" 

Both  boys  strained  every  muscle  in  their  strong 
young  bodies.  Slowly  the  great  stone  gave,  until, 
at  last,  by  a  tremendous  effort,  they  flung  it  over 
backward  on  the  floor  of  the  cave;  and  stood  star- 
ing down  into  a  jagged  black  hole,  through  which 
a  strong  current  of  air  was  blowing. 

"Hurrah!"  yelled  Thure;  and  then  his  flushed 
face  whitened,  for  into  what  new  dangers  and  ter- 
rors might  not  that  black  hole  lead  them  ?  But,  in 
a  moment,  his  face  brightened  again.  "See!"  he 
exclaimed,  "the  air  smells  as  fresh  and  as  pure  as 
if  it  came  through  an  opened  window.  It  can't  be 
far  to  the  open  air.  Come,  let  us  hurry,  while  we 


330  Fighting  With  Fremont 

have  light,"  and  he  caught  up  the  torch  and  thrust 
it  into  the  opening. 

The  hole,  evidently  tunneled  through  the  solid 
rock  by  the  wonderful  hand  of  nature1,  was  some 
four  feet  high  by  two  feet  wide,  with  smooth  water- 
worn  sides  and  top  and,  so  far  as  the  light  of  the 
torch  permitted  Thure  to  see,  slanted  upward. 

"Let  me  take  the  torch  and  I'll  go  ahead,"  and 
Bud,  who  was  looking  over  Thure's  shoulder, 
reached  out  a  trembling  hand  to  take  the  torch. 

"No;  you  follow  close  behind,"  Thure  said,  and, 
with  a  last  wondering  look  toward  the  mummies, 
sitting  in  their  ghastly  loneliness  propped  against 
the  wall  of  the  cave,  he  bent  over  and,  holding  the 
torch  thrust  out  in  front  of  him,  stepped  into  the 
opening. 

"If  they  had  only  known  of  this  passageway,  they 
might  have  escaped,"  murmured  Bud,  as,  with  a 
shuddering  glance  in  the  direction  of  the  mummies, 
he  stepped  into  the  hole  after  Thure. 

For  some  two  hundred  feet,  with  scarcely  a 
change  in  its  contour,  the  hole  continued  on  a  slight 
incline  upward.  Then  it  became  wider  and  higher ; 
and,  suddenly  making  an  abrupt  turn,  gladdened 
the  eyes  of  the  hurrying  boys  with  a  sight  of  the 
white  light  of  the  outer  world. 

Thure's  yell  of  delight  was  echoed  by  Bud's ;  and 
both  boys  started  on  the  run  for  the  opening. 

Again  the  tunnel  narrowed  down  until  it  was  not 
over  three  feet  high;  and  the  two  boys  were  com- 


The  Cave  of  the  Dead  331 

pelled  to  crawl  out  of  it,  one  behind  the  other,  on 
their  hands  and  knees. 

Both  boys  uttered  exclamations  of  astonishment 
the  moment  they  stood  upright  outside  in  the  clear 
sunlight  and  looked  around  them.  They  were 
standing  on  a  narrow  ledge  of  rocks,  some  two  hun- 
dred feet  above  a  beautiful  little  cuplike  valley  that 
appeared  from  where  they  were  to  be  completely 
surrounded  by  a  wall  of  almost  perpendicular  rocks. 
The  valley  was  nearly  round  in  shape  and  not  more 
than  a  mile  in  diameter.  Near  its  center  was  a 
small  pool  of  clear  water,  fringed  round  with  wil- 
low trees,  that  looked  to  the  boys  like  a  mirror 
framed  in  green.  A  number  of  deer  and  antelopes 
were  quietly  feeding  on  the  rich  verdure  of  the  val- 
ley. 

"It's  like  a  picture  of  the  Garden  of  Eden !"  cried 
Thure.  "I  never  saw  a  more  beautiful  valley." 

"Nor  I,"  agreed  Bud.  "But,  just  now,  I  am  too 
anxious  to  find  out  how  we  are  to  get  down  and 
too  tired  and  hungry  to  admire  its  beauties.  There 
must  be  a  way  down.  Come  on ;  let's  see  if  we  can 
find  it,"  and  he  started  along  the  narrow  ledge, 
which  where  they  were  was  not  more  than  four  or 
five  feet  wide. 

It  was  now  well  for  our  two  young  friends  that 
both  were  experienced  mountain  climbers  and  that 
their  heads  were  steady  and  their  feet  sure  and 
their  hands  strong ;  for  the  path  downward,  if  such 
it  might  be  called,  ran  along  the  nearly  perpendicu- 


332  Fighting  With  Fremont 

lar  face  of  the  side  of  the  mountain,  and  sometimes 
was  not  over  a  foot  in  width  and  sometimes  they 
were  obliged  to  lower  themselves  from  one  jagged 
point  of  projecting  rock  to  another,  where  there 
were  no  other  hand-  or  foot-holds  and  where  a  fall 
would  have  meant  instant  death.  But,  at  last, 
flushed  and  panting  with  the  exertions  they  had 
made,  they  stood  on  the  level  of  the  valley. 

"My,  but  I  don't  feel  as  if  I  wanted  to  move 
again  for  a  year,"  Thure  said,  as  he  threw  himself 
down  at  full-length  on  a  soft  bed  of  grass. 

"  Neither  do  I ;  but,  I  reckon,  we  had  better  keep 
moving,  if  we  do  not  want  to  fall  into  the  hands  of 
Padilla  again,"  Bud  declared,  as  he  threw  himself 
down  by  the  side  of  Thure.  "He  might  go  into  the 
little  cave  to  see  what  had  become  of  us  almost 
any  time.  Jimminy,  but  I  would  just  like  to  see  his 
face,  when  he  finds  out  that  we  have  escaped  and 
sees  how  we  did  it !  I'll  bet  he  will  do  some  swear- 
ing in  Mexican ;  and  he'll  be  as  hot  on  our  trail  as 
a  hungry  wolf  on  the  trail  of  an  old  buffalo.  That's 
why  I  think  we  ought  to  be  getting  out  of  this  val- 
ley just  as  soon  as  we  can." 

"I  know  we  had,"  Thure  agreed,  "and  we  will 
start  just  as  soon  as  we  have  rested  up  a  bit  and 
go  until  we  think  we  have  found  gome  safe  hiding- 
place  and  then  we  will  lie  down  and  sleep — sleep, 
why,  I  don't  feel  as  if  I  had  had  a  wink  of  sleep  for 
six  years,"  and  Thure  yawned  and  rubbed  his  eyes. 


The  Cave  of  the  Dead  333 

"I  don't  feel  as  if  I  could  think  straight  or  do  any- 
thing straight  until  I  have  slept." 

"That  is  just  the  way  I  feel,"  Bud  declared,  yawn- 
ing and  stretching. 

For  nearly  an  hour  the  two  boys  lay  on  the  grass 
side  by  side,  fighting  desperately  to  keep  awake, 
and  then  Bud  jumped  to  his  feet. 

"Come,"  he  said,  "let's  be  going.  If  we  stay 
here  any  longer  we  will  both  be  asleep  before  we 
know  it,  and  like  as  not  be  in  the  hands  of  Padilla 
again  when  we  wake  up." 

"I  do  not  believe  Padilla  will  go  into  the  little 
cave  until  he  has  had  his  sleep  out,"  Thure  affirmed ; 
"but  I  am  not  running  any  risks  on  Padilla,"  and 
he  jumped  to  his  feet.  "Now,  the  thing  to  do  is  to 
find  a  way  out  of  this  valley.  Come  on." 

For  an  hour  the  two  boys  searched ;  and  then  they 
found  a  narrow  chasm,  only  a  few  feet  wide,  leading 
out  of  the  valley.  With  great  difficulty  they  made 
their  way  down  this  chasm,  until  they  came  to  a 
little  stream  of  swift  running  water.  Here  they 
rested  for  a  few  minutes  and  then  continued  on  their 
way  down  the  stream  for  a  couple  of  miles,  where 
it  entered  into  a  broad  valley  dotted  here  and  there 
with  little  clumps  of  trees. 

"Here  is  where  we  sleep,"  declared  Thure,  with 
a  longing  glance  toward  the  nearest  clump  of  trees. 
"  I  don't  believe  I  could  keep  awake  longer,  even  if 
I  knew  Padilla  was  hard  on  our  trail.  We'll  crawl 


334  Fighting  With  Fremont 

in  there  out  of  sight  among  the  bushes  and  just 
sleep,  sleep." 

"All  right,"  agreed  Bud.  "I  reckon  it  will  be 
safe  now.  Anyway,  I  don't  feel  no  more  like  tak- 
ing another  step  than  you  do.  So,  come  on,"  and 
he  started  for  the  trees. 

The  two  boys  found  a  little  opening  among  the 
trees,  surrounded  by  thick  brush,  and,  with  sighs 
of  satisfaction,  dropped  down  on  a  little  pile  of  old 
leaves;  and  were  sound  asleep  almost  as  soon  as 
their  bodies  touched  the  leaves.  If  you  will  recall 
to  mind  the  fact  that  neither  boy  had  had  a  chance 
to  get  a  wink  of  sleep  for  over  thirty  hours  now, 
and  that  during  this  time  both  of  them  had  been 
subjected  to  great  excitement  and  to  the  most  ardu- 
ous exertions,  you  will  not  wonder  at  their  sleepi- 
ness and  weariness  and  that  they  were  so  soon  lost 
to  everything  that  was  passing  on  around  them. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE  MAN  IN  BUCKSKIN 

T  T  was  a  little  after  noon  when  Thure  and  Bud 
*  fell  asleep  in  the  little  clump  of  trees ;  and  it  was 
a  little  before  noon  of  the  next  day  when  both  awoke 
suddenly,  to  find  the  grinning  face  of  Padilla  bend- 
ing over  them,  and  back  of  him  his  men.  They 
could  hear  their  horses  stamping  among  the  trees 
near  by. 

For  a  moment  both  boys  were  too  dumbfounded 
to  believe  the  evidences  of  their  own  eyes.  They 
fancied  that  they  must  be  still  asleep  and  dreaming 
and  lay  motionless,  staring  up  blankly  into  the  evil 
grinning  face;  and,  when  at  last  the  terrible  truth 
was  forced  in  upon  their  senses,  they  were  too  ut- 
terly crestfallen,  too  discouraged,  to  utter  a  word 
or  to  make  a  motion,  but  lay  still  staring  blankly  up 
into  Padilla's  face. 

"You  surprised,  same  as  I  surprised,  when  go 
into  Cave  of  Dead  to  find  out  why  you  so  still,  and 
not  find,"  and  Padilla's  grin  broadened.  "  But  I 
find  now;  and  you  no  get  away  again.  Now,  you 
have  long  sweet  sleep;  and  now  we  talk,"  and  the 
grin  left  Padilla's  face,  and  the  lines  around  his  face 
335 


336  Fighting  With  Fremont 

hardened,  and  his  eyes  again  looked  as  if  they  might 
dart  venom  out  of  them. 

Thure  and  Bud  shuddered ;  but  still  neither  spoke 
a  word.  What  was  the  use  of  words  under  the  cir- 
cumstances. 

Padilla  now  turned  and  spoke  a  few  quick  words 
to  his  men.  Instantly  a  number  of  them  seized  the 
boys  and,  jerking  them  to  their  feet,  dragged  them 
through  the  brush  to  a  little  cleared  opening  and 
tied  them  to  trees.  All  the  men  now  formed  a  half 
circle  in  front  of  the  two  boys ;  and  Padilla,  a  heavy 
whip  ia  his  hand,  stepped  out  in  front  of  them. 

Padilla  was  always  melodramatically  garrulous, 
even  when  in  a  rage  or  when  intensely  excited,  as 
people  of  his  race  are  likely  to  be;  and  now  he  had 
to  make  his  little  speech  and  go  through  his  prelim- 
inary flourishes  before  he  got  down  to  business. 
Then,  like  a  cat,  he  loved  to  play  with  his  mouse. 
For  a  minute  or  so  he  stood  directly  in  front  of 
Thure,  saying  nothing,  but  feeling  of  his  whip  and 
shrugging  his  shoulders  and  snapping  his  little 
black  eyes  at  him  and  all  the  time  gradually  work- 
ing up  his  rage,  until  it  broke  out  in  words. 

"Your  dad  whip  Padilla  like  dog,  like  cur  dog," 
he  raged.  "Now  I  whip  Americano  pig  until  he 
squeal — squeal,"  and,  for  half  an  hour,  like  a  man 
drunk  with  rage,  he  raved  in  front  of  Thure,  many 
times  threatening  to  strike  him,  but  never  once  al- 
lowing the  whip  to  touch  him.  Then,  all  at  once, 


The  Man  in  Buckskin  337 

his  wrath  seemed  to  solidify;  and  Thure  knew  by 
the  look  on  his  face  that  the  time  for  action  had 
come  and  steeled  his  nerves  for  the  terrible  ordeal 
that  he  would  now  be  called  upon  to  endure. 

So  far  neither  boy  had  spoken  a  word.  They 
could  find  no  words  to  express  their  feelings.  But 
now  Thure' s  white  set  lips  parted. 

"If  you  strike  me  a  blow,  Dad  will  kill  you,"  he 
threatened. 

Padilla,  his  face  livid  with  rage,  took  a  quick 
step  toward  him  and  raised  his  whip. 

There  was  no  Four-fingered  Jack  there  now  to 
interfere.  Indeed,  all  the  men  took  a  step  closer 
and  all  fixed  their  eyes  on  Padilla  and  the  two  boys, 
their  brutal  faces  showing  nothing  but  savage  in- 
terest. 

"I — I  no  afraid  of  big  Dad,"  and  Padilla  swung 
back  his  whip  to  strike — and  stopped,  as  if  frozen 
stiff  in  his  tracks,  his  mouth  dropping  open  with  as- 
tonishment and  fear;  for,  at  that  instant,  a  buck- 
skin-clothed figure  had  glided  swiftly  and  silently 
from  behind  the  tree  to  which  Thure  was  bound 
and  now  stood  directly  in  front  of  the  boy,  a  pistol 
in  one  hand,  a  long-barreled  rifle  in  the  other. 

"Drop  that  whip  and  surrender !"  said  a  quiet,  im- 
perative voice,  that  thrilled  through  Thure  like 
wine,  for  in  it  he  recognized  the  voice  of  Kit  Car- 
son. "Surrender,  all  of  you,  or  my  men  will  shoot 
to  kill.  They  have  your  bodies  covered  with  their 


338  Fighting  With  Fremont 

rifles."  The  keen  eyes  never  once  left  the  faces 
of  Padilla  and  his  men,  but  neither  the  pistol  nor  the 
rifle  in  his  hand  was  raised  threateningly. 

The  Mexicans  all  stood  stock-still,  not  daring  to 
make  a  move,  lest  a  ball  from  those  deadly  rifles 
hidden  in  the  surrounding  woods  should  find  their 
hearts.  But  Padilla,  either  because  his  terror  was 
too  great  to  keep  under  control,  or  because  at  that 
moment  he  saw  that  Kit  Carson's  eyes  were  else- 
where and  he  fancied  that  he  might  kill  him  and  es- 
cape, suddenly  dropped  the  whip  and  shot  his  right 
hand  toward  the  pistol  in  his  belt. 

Thure  uttered  a  startled  cry  of  warning — and 
two  pistols  cracked  almost  simultaneously — and 
Padilla  spun  half-way  around  on  his  heels  and  tum- 
bled to  the  ground,  dead,  a  ball  through  the  center 
of  his  forehead,  his  career  of  wickedness  forever 
ended. 

"No  shoot!  No  shoot!  we  surrender!"  yelled 
the  other  Mexicans,  now  almost  frantic  with  fear. 

"Good.  Advance,  Jones,  and  secure  their  weap- 
ons. The  others  keep  them  covered  with  their 
rifles,"  and  Kit  Carson  lowered  the  rifle  that  he  had 
instantly  thrown  to  his  shoulder  and  leveled  at  one 
of  the  men  the  moment  after  he  had  fired  at  Pa- 
dilla. 

Hammer  Jones  now  rose  out  of  a  clump  of  brush 
and,  with  a  broad  grin  on  his  face,  advanced  and 
seized  every  weapon  in  the  possession  of  the  Mexi- 
cans. 


The  Man  in  Buckskin  339 

"Better  tie  their  hands  behind  their  backs,  Ham," 
advised  Kit  Carson;  and,  when  this  had  been  done 
to  the  very  evident  satisfaction  of  the  big  trapper, 
Carson  summoned  in  the  rest  of  his  men,  with  a 
twinkle  in  his  gray  eyes ;  and  Noel  Conroyal  leaped 
up  from  the  brush  and  rushed  to  Thure  and  cut  him 
free  from  the  tree,  while  Carson  at  the  same  time 
liberated  Bud. 

"But — but,  where  are  the  rest  of  you?"  asked 
Thure,  when  the  excitement  had  died  down  a  little, 
Staring  around. 

"Thar  ain't  any  rest  on  us,"  laughed  Ham.  "We 
done  it  all  ourselves;  or,  rather,  Kit  Carson  done 
th'  most  of  it.  You  see,  me  an'  Kit  an'  Con  was 
a-scoutin'  on  our  own  hook,  th'  rest  on  'em  is  back 
'bout  ten  miles,  when  we  happened  tew  come  intew 
this  valley  jest  as  th'  Mexies  was  a-ridin'  up  tew 
this  clump  of  trees ;  an',  as  they  hadn't  seen  us,  we 
reckoned  'twould  be  safe  tew  investigate  what  they 
was  a-doin'  in  here.  So  we  rode  up  cautious  ahind 
a  leetle  clump  of  willows  'bout  a  hundred  yards 
from  this  here  clump;  an',  leavin'  our  hosses  thar, 
crept  up  through  th'  tall  grass  tew  whar  th'  Mexies 
had  tied  their  hosses  among  th'  trees;  an',  findin' 
no  guard  over  th'  hosses,  we  knowed  that  somethin' 
mighty  interestin'  must  be  a-goin'  on  a  leetle  farther 
on  in  th'  woods,  whar  we  could  hear  a  Mexican 
spoutin',  as  if  he  had  pulled  th'  cork  plumb  out  of 
his  voice;  an',  of  course,  we  was  powerful  curious 
tew  see  what'n  thunder  th'  Mexie  was  workin'  up 


340  Fighting  With  Fremont 

about  and  tew  find  out  what  it  was,  we  crept  on 
toward  th'  voice. 

"Now,  I  call  it  one  of  them  'Mysterious  Dispen- 
sations of  Providence'  that  them  ministers  talk 
'bout,  leastwise  for  you  yunks,  though  I  don't  know 
'bout  th'  Mexies,"  and  Ham  chuckled,  "that  we 
should  a-come  a-crawlin'  through  th'  brush  jest  at 
th'  right  moment  tew  spoil  Padilla's  leetle  game  of 
skin-cuttin' ;  but,  I  reckon,  th'  good  Lord  thought 
he'd  gone  far  enough  in  his  devilment,"  and  Ham's 
face  grew  solemn  and  his  eyes  turned  to  the  dead 
body  of  the  fallen  Mexican.  "Leastwise  we  was 
here;  an',  if  th'  Lord  didn't  lead  us  I  don't  know 
who  did,  'cause  we'd  lost  your  trail  completely  and 
had  no  more  thought  of  findin'  you  here  than  we 
had  of  findin'  th'  king  of  China." 

"But,  how  could  Kit  Carson  get  up  so  close  be- 
hind me,  unseen  by  the  Mexicans  ?"  broke  in  Thure, 
his  eyes  turning  admiringly  toward  Kit  Carson, 
who  now  stood  quietly  talking  with  one  of  the  pris- 
oners. "I  can't  see  how  he  did  it,  or  how  he  dared 
to  face  so  many  Mexicans,  knowing  he  had  only 
two  men  back  of  him." 

"Wai,"  and  the  grin  came  back  on  Ham's  face, 
"when  your  dad  saw  Padilla  prancin'  up  an'  down 
in  front  of  you  an'  a-flourishin'  that  whip  as  if  he 
was  'bout  tew  whale  th'  hide  off  of  you,  he  was  for 
jumpin'  right  on  top  of  him  then  an'  thar  an'  chokin' 
th'  life  out  of  him  with  his  big  hands,  not  mindin' 
th'  other  Mexicans  no  more'n  if  they  wan't  thar. 


The  Man  in  Buckskin  341 

But  Kit  grabs  him  by  th'  arm,  an'  holds  him  back, 
an'  shows  him  how  that  would  be  like  committin' 
suicide,  without  doin'  you  boys  no  good,  an'  like  as 
not  givin'  most  of  th'  Mexicans  a  chance  tew  es- 
cape ;  an'  then  he  p'ints  out  how,  by  takin'  advantage 
of  a  number  of  trees  an'  a  clump  or  two  of  bushes, 
he  thought  he  could  creep  up  right  ahind  th'  tree 
whar  you  was,  without  bein'  seen  by  th'  Mexicans 
in  thar  excitement,  an'  that,  if  he  stepped  out  sud- 
den like  in  front  of  Padilla,  an'  ordered  all  on  'em 
tew  surrender  or  be  shot  down  by  his  men  hidden 
in  th'  surroundin'  woods,  they'd  be  tew  scart  an'  un- 
sartin  tew  make  any  resistance  an'  we  could  git 
'em  all;  an',  I'll  be  durned,  if  th'  bluff  didn't  work!" 
and  Ham  chuckled  noisily.  "Takes  Kit  tew  work 
a  bluff  like  that!  One  would  have  thought  from 
th'  way  he  looked  an'  talked  that  he  had  a  man 
ahind  every  tree  in  th'  woods,"  and  there  was  some- 
thing akin  to  reverence  in  the  look  of  the  eyes  the 
big  fellow  turned  toward  Kit  Carson. 

Of  course  Thure  and  Bud  now  had  to  relate  their 
adventures,  since  riding  out  of  Sonoma  on  their 
way  to  Captain  Fremont;  and  then,  equally  of 
course,  they  wanted  to  know  all  that  had  happened 
while  they  had  been  held  captive  by  Padilla — had 
there  been  any  more  fighting  between  the  Mexicans 
and  the  Americans?  Had  Captain  Fremont  yet 
joined  the  Americans?  What  the  news  was  from 
the  United  States  about  the  war  with  Mexico? 
And  their  patriotic  young  American  hearts  you  may 


342  Fighting  With  Fremont 

be  sure  were  greatly  rejoiced,  when  they  learned 
that  Captain  Fremont  had  joined  the  Americans 
at  Sonoma  on  June  25th,  that  the  stars  and  stripes 
had  been  hoisted  in  place  of  the  bear  flag  on  July 
loth,  and  that  Captain  Fremont  at  the  head  of  his 
men  and  a  large  number  of  American  volunteers 
was  even  now  marching  southward,  driving  all  the 
Mexican  soldiers  before  him. 

"We  hain't  even  had  th'  chance  tew  see  th'  back 
of  a  Mexican  soldier,  since  th'  scrimmage  at  the  old 
house  near  San  Rafael,  when  Padilla  got  a  way 
with  you  boys  so  slick  that,  if  it  hadn't  a-ben  for 
an  old  hunter,  we  wouldn't  have  known  what  had 
become  of  you,"  mourned  Ham.  "All  we've  had 
tew  do  is  jest  tew  march  toward  'em  an'  they'd  run 
afore  we  could  git  within  eyesight  of  'em." 

"But,  what  about  the  war  with  Mexico?"  in- 
quired Bud  anxiously.  "Is  the  United  States  back 
of  us?" 

"That  is  where  we  are  still  a  little  uncertain," 
replied  Mr.  Conroyal.  "But  we  all  feel  sure  that 
Captain  Fremont  has  had  secret  instructions  from 
the  government  at  Washington  to  do  as  he  is  doing 
and  that  fighting  down  in  Mexico  has  begun  before 
this.  You  know  we  have  not  seen  Captain  Fre- 
mont for  a  number  of  days  now;  for,  just  as  soon 
as  we  learned  from  the  old  hunter  that  Padilla  had 
you  boys  and  we  couldn't  find  his  trail,  your  dad 
and  I,"  and  he  nodded  to  Bud,  "started  for  Fre- 
mont's camp  as  fast  as  our  horses  could  take  us  to 


The  Man  in  Buckskin  343 

get  Kit  Carson  and  Hammer  Jones  and  Rex  to  help 
us.  We  knew  that  if  anybody  could  find  the  trail, 
Kit  Carson  could.  Fremont  willingly  gave  them 
permission  to  go  with  us ;  and  we  have  been  on  the 
hunt  for  you  ever  since,  so  we  don't  know  what  the 
latest  news  is.  But,  now  that  we  have  found  you 
boys,  safe  and  sound,  thank  God!  and  have  settled 
all  accounts  with  Padilla,"  and  his  eyes  rested  on 
the  corpse  of  the  dead  scoundrel  with  a  look  of 
loathing  that  even  death  could  not  soften,  "we  must 
hasten  back  to  Fremont;  for  now  is  the  time  that 
every  loyal  American  in  California  should  be  back 
of  him  with  his  rifle  loaded  and  his  powder  horn 
and  bullet  pouch  filled,"  and  his  strong  face  re- 
flected the  light  of  the  patriotism  that  shone  within. 

What  shall  be  done  with  the  prisoners  ?  was  now 
the  question. 

"Seein'  as  how  it  won't  be  handy  tew  take  'em 
'long  with  us,"  Ham  suggested,  "I  reckon  'bout  th' 
best  thing  we  can  do  is  tew  take  all  their  weapons 
an'  hosses  from  them  an'  leave  them  whar  they  be, 
with  a  warnin'  tew  git  out  of  th'  country  as  quick 
as  th'  Lord  will  let  them." 

Kit  Carson  and  Noel  Conroyal  quickly  agreed 
that  this  was  the  best  solution  of  the  difficulty 
under  the  circumstances;  and,  accordingly,  all  the 
Mexicans'  arms  and  horses  were  confiscated  by  our 
friends,  the  prisoners  left  bound  in  the  little  woods 
where  they  had  been  captured  and  the  start  back 
for  the  little  army  of  Fremont  at  once  begun. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THE  STARS  AND   STRIPES 

TWO  days  later,  a  short  time  before  sundown, 
our  little  party  came  within  sight  of  the  camp 
of  Fremont,  pitched  in  a  little  valley  only  a  few 
miles  from  Monterey.  As  they  drew  near  to  the 
camp,  they  heard  loud  cheering  and  hurrahing  and 
the  vociferous,  if  not  tuneful,  singing  of  "The  Star 
Spangled  Banner"  and  other  national  songs. 

"Hurrah,  they've  got  good  news  of  some  kind," 
cried  Thure.  "Let's  hurry  up  and  find  out  what  it 
is.  Come,"  and  he  struck  the  spurs  into  his  horse, 
and,  with  Bud  galloping  by  his  side,  charged  into 
camp. 

"What  has  happened?  What's  the  news?" 
yelled  both  boys,  as  they  pulled  up  their  horses  in 
the  midst  of  the  excited  men. 

"Taylor  has  licked  the  Mexicans  good  and  plenty 
down  on  the  Rio  Grande !"  shouted  one  of  the  men, 
swinging  his  hat  around  his  head. 

"The  war  is  on  for  sure  now ;  and  we've  got  the 
United  States  back  of  us,  Hurrah !"  yelled  another. 

"California  is  as  good  as  a  part  of  the  Union 
now.  Hurrah  for  the  Stars  and  Stripes !"  and  like 
344 


The  Stars  and  Stripes  345 

expressions  of  enthusiasm  and  rejoicing  came  from 
all  parts  of  the  camp. 

The  boys  soon  learned  that  an  express  had  just 
arrived  from  Monterey,  with  the  news  of  the 
battles  of  Palo  Alto  and  Resaca  de  la  Palma,  in 
both  of  which  General  Taylor  was  said  to  have 
defeated  the  Mexicans  with  great  slaughter;  and, 
of  course,  there  could  be  no  longer  any  doubts  that 
the  war  between  the  United  States  and  Mexico 
had  actually  begun. 

That  was  a  great  night  in  the  camp  of  Fremont. 
Until  long  after  midnight  the  camp-fires  blazed 
high,  and  the  shouts  and  the  songs  of  the  rejoicing 
men  echoed  over  the  wild  silence  of  the  hills  and  the 
valleys;  but,  at  last,  Thure  and  Bud  found  them- 
selves in  their  blankets,  where  sleep  soon  brought 
forgetfulness  of  all  past  excitements. 

The  next  morning  the  two  lads  were  awakened 
at  sunrise  by  the  sounds  of  a  bugle ;  and,  in  a  very 
short  time,  the  breakfast  was  prepared  and  eaten, 
the  horses  saddled  and  bridled,  the  baggage  packed 
on  the  mules,  and  everything  put  in  readiness  for 
the  march  into  Monterey,  about  a  two-hours' 
march. 

Thure  and  Bud,  accompanied  by  their  fathers, 
galloped  on  ahead  of  the  main  body  of  men.  Their 
mothers  and  sisters  had  been  sent  to  Monterey  some 
two  weeks  before,  where  both  had  relatives  and 
where,  in  case  of  need,  they  could  place  themselves 


346  Fighting  With  Fremont 

under  the  protection  of  the  United  States  men-of- 
war  then  anchored  in  the  harbor,  there  to  await  the 
outcome  of  the  trouble;  and  both  boys  were  too 
anxious  to  see  them  to  wait  on  the  slow  march  of 
Fremont  and  his  men,  cumbered  as  they  were  with 
their  baggage. 

The  morning  was  clear  and  cool,  their  horses 
exceptionally  speedy,  and,  in  little  over  an  hour's 
time,  they  were  galloping  into  Monterey.  Above 
the  blockhouse  recently  built  on  a  hill  floated  the 
stars  and  stripes.  This  was  a  glorious  sight  to  the 
two  American  boys,  who  had  been  taught  to  think 
that  flag  the  emblem  of  the  most  illustrious  nation 
on  the  face  of  the  earth.  On  the  waters  of  the  har- 
bor rode  four  American  men-of-war;  and  through 
the  streets  of  the  little  town  marched  armed  com- 
panies of  marines  from  their  decks. 

The  hearts  of  both  boys  beat  high  with  exultation 
and  pride.  They  felt  that  they  walked  on  United 
States  soil  again,  that,  at  last,  their  loved  Cali- 
fornia was  free ;  and,  when  they  rode  into  the  yard 
of  the  house  where  their  mothers  were  staying  and 
were  nearly  smothered  in  their  dear  arms  the  mo- 
ment they  sprang  off  their  horses,  I  do  not  believe 
you  could  have  found  two  happier  or  prouder  boys 
in  all  the  Great  Western  World. 

A  half  an  hour  later,  when  the  swift-moving 
tongues  of  the  two  lads  had  but  partly  related  the 
story  of  their  adventures,  Thure  suddenly  jumped 
to  his  feet. 


The  Stars  and  Stripes  347 

"Come,"  he  cried  joyously,  "let  us  all  go  and  help 
welcome  Fremont  and  his  men,  when  they  come 
marching  into  town.  He  and  they  are  the  real 
liberators  of  California." 

"Splendid!  Hurrah!"  shouted  lola  Conroyal 
and  Ruth  Randolph  jumping  to  their  feet  and  rush- 
ing away  to  get  mantillas  for  themselves  and  their 
mothers  to  wear  over  their  heads. 

In  a  few  minutes  they  were  back;  and  Thure, 
with  his  mother  on  one  arm  and  lola  on  the  other, 
and  Bud,  with  his  mother  on  one  arm  and  Ruth  on 
the  other,  started  for  the  outskirts  of  the  little  town 
to  be  near  the  point  where  Fremont  and  his  men 
would  enter. 

They  had  hardly  reached  a  suitable  place  on  a  lit- 
tle elevation  near  the  road  along  which  Fremont 
would  pass,  when  a  great  cloud  of  dust  in  the  dis- 
tance heralded  the  approach  of  the  gallant  young 
officer  and  his  hardy  followers.  Then,  presently, 
appeared  a  long  file  of  dust-covered  horsemen,  rid- 
ing two  and  two,  with  Captain  Fremont  at  their 
head.  Directly  behind  him  rode  five  Delaware  In- 
dians, his  bodyguard,  and  behind  them  followed  the 
long  line  of  his  men,  dressed  in  deerskin,  with  their 
long-barreled  rifles  held  by  one  hand  across  the 
pommels  of  their  saddles — their  dark  faces  show- 
ing redly  underneath  their  broad  hats  and  their 
whole  appearance  indicative  of  the  hardy  independ- 
ent fearless  lives  they  had  lived  in  the  wild  freedom 
of  the  plains  and  the  mountains. 


348  Fighting  With  Fremont 

Thure  and  Bud  and  the  two  girls  could  hardly 
contain  themselves,  as  the  cavalcade  drew  near ;  and 
even  their  mothers  caught  the  contagion  of  their 
enthusiasm  and  waved  their  mantillas  and  cheered 
as  loudly  as  did  the  children  themselves.  But, 
when  Fremont  came  abreast  of  where  they  stood, 
and  lifted  his  hat  to  the  ladies  and  bowed  and 
smiled  to  the  boys;  well,  Thure  and  Bud  just 
danced  up  and  down  and  waved  their  hats  and 
yelled,  and  the  two  girls  just  danced  up  and  down 
and  waved  their  mantillas  and  yelled,  and  Mrs.  Con- 
royal  and  Mrs.  Randolph  just  stood  still  and  waved 
their  mantillas  and  yelled,  until  their  arms  were 
lame  and  their  voices  hoarse  for  a  week  later. 

And,  right  here,  with  the  cheers  for  Fremont 
ringing  in  their  ears,  the  stars  and  stripes  floating 
in  the  air  above  their  heads,  their  perils  and  hard- 
ships all  safely  surmounted  and  California  prac- 
tically won  for  the  Union,  is  a  good  place  to  say 
our  farewells  to  Thure  and  Bud,  and  to  their  two 
charming  sisters,  Tola  and  Ruth,  and  to  all  the  brave 
men  who  marched  with  Fremont  in  the  Conquest  of 
California. 

We,  who  live  in  an  after  generation,  owe  them 
much. 

Let  us  honor  their  memories. 


THE   END 


BOOHS  BY 
COLONEL  H.  R.  GORDON 


LOGAN,  THE  MINOO 

A  Story  of  the  Frontier.     121110,  cloth,  gilt  top,  illus- 
trated       $1.50 

RED  JACKET,  THE  LAST  OF  THE  SENEGAS 

i2mo,  cloth,  gilt  top,  illustrated  .         .         .         .     $1.50 

An  exciting  story  of  scouts  and  Indians  in  the  expedition  sent  against  the 
Six  Nations  in  the  year  1779. — The  Outlook. 

A  regular  Indian  story  is  "  Red  Jacket,  the  Last  of  the  Senecas,"  by  Colonel 
H.  R.  Gordon,  author  of  three  other  popular  books  of  Indian  life  and  adven- 
ture. The  scene  is  laid  in  central  and  western  New  York  and  covers  the  in- 
vasion of  the  country  of  the  Six  Nations  by  General  Sullivan  in  1779. — 
Boston  Transcript. 

PONTIAC,  CHIEF  OF  THE  OTTAWAS 

A  Tale  of  the  Siege  of  Detroit.     i2mo,  cloth,  gilt  top, 
illustrated $I-5° 

It  presents  a  skilful  study  of  the  famous  Indian's  individuality,  conveyed 
without  sacrificing  the  rapid  movement  and  engrossing  interest  of  the  narra- 
tive. And  both  as  bearing  upon  history  and  as  an  interpretation  of  character 
the  book  is  of  a  high  order,  while  its  interest  grows  to  the  close. — Congrega- 
tionalist. 

OSCEOLA,  CHIEF  OF  THE  SEMINOLES 

Illustrated.     i2mo,  cloth,  gilt  top        .         .        .     $1.50 

There  are  no  tales  that  interest  boys  more  than  Indian  tales,  and  this  is  one 
of  the  best  sort,  exciting  and  varied,  yet  founded  on  fact  and  life-like. — N.  Y. 
Observer. 

This  lively  and  adventurous  tale  of  the  Seminole  War  will  delight  the 
hearts  of  all  American  boys.  We  are  glad,  too,  to  observe  that  the  gallant 
author  has  the  courage  to  tell  the  truth  of  the  base  treachery  by  which  the 
great  chief  was  ultimately  captured.  We  wish  there  were  more  books  like 
this  for  boys;  and  we  cannot  close  without  paying  our  compliments  to  the 
publishers  on  the  pleasing  dress  in  which  they  have  given  it  to  the  public. — 
Church  Standard. 

TECUMSEH,  CHIEF  OF  THE  SHAWANOES 

i2mo,  cloth,  gilt  top,  illustrated,  312  pages         .    $1.50 

Colonel  Gordon  contributes  a  well- written  story  of  the  famous  Indian 
chief  "  Tecumseh,"  which  is  an  important  book  for  every  boy  and  girl  to  read 
carefully.  It  is  far  more  than  a  book  of  entertainment,  it  is  history  told  m  a 
most  fascinating  way  and  full  of  information. — Churchman. 

There  is  a  great  deal  of  life,  action,  stirring  adventure  in  the  story,  with 
much  desirable  historical  pabulum. — Buffalo  Commercial. 


E.  P.  DUTTON  &  CO.,  Publishers 
31  West  Twenty-third  Street,  New  York 


jg  Tale  of  the  Alamo 
IN  TEXAS  WITH  DAVY  CROCKETT 

By  EVERETT  McNEIL 

A  Story  of  the  Texas   War  of  Independence 

Illustrated.     I2mo $1.50 

The  tale  tells  of  the  adventures  of  two  boys,  Trav 
and  Tom,  during  that  intensely  dramatic  and  exciting 
period  when  Texas  won  her  independence  from  Mexico 
— the  most  heroic  in  the  history  of  America.  The 
famous  bear-hunter  and  backwoods  statesman  DAVY 
CROCKETT,  and  the  even  more  famous  SAM  HOUS- 
TON, are  the  two  leading  historical  characters  in  the 
story,  while  WILL  TRAVIS,  the  ill-fated  FANNIN, 
JIM  BOWIE,  of  bowie-knife  fame,  DEAF  SMITH,  the 
famous  Texan  scout,  and  other  characters  well  known 
in  Texan  history,  play  important,  if  minor,  parts  in  the 
tale. 

The  story  begins  a  few  weeks  before  the  battle  of 
the  Alamo — one  of  the  most  heroic  in  all  history  ;  carries 
the  reader  through  the  scenes  of  this  battle  and  the  still 
more  terrible  Goliad,  and  reaches  its  final  climax  in 
the  battle  of  San  Jacinto,  where  General  Houston  prac- 
tically annihilates  the  Mexican  army,  captures  Santa 
Anna  himself,  and  wins  the  Independence  of  Texas. 

Great  care  has  been  taken  to  have  all  historical 
data  correct,  and  to  give  accurate  pictures  of  the  men 
and  the  times,  while,  at  the  same  time,  telling  a  story 
that  will  deeply  interest  the  boy  reader  and  make  him 
anxious  to  go  to  his  history  in  order  to  learn  more  of 
the  heroic  men  in  whose  deeds  it  is  hoped  the  tale  has 
given  him  almost  a  personal  interest. 


E.  P.  DUTTON  &  CO.,  Publishers 
31  West  Twenty-third  Street,  New  York 


BOYS'  BOOKS  OF  ADVENTURE 

By  EVERETT  McNEIL 


WITH  KIT  CARSON  IN  THE 
ROCKIES 

A  Tale  of  the  Beaver  Country 

Illustrated.     12mo,     $1.50 

The  story  of  the  wild  and  adventurous  lives  of  the  trappers  among 
the  Rockies  before  civilization  had  crossed  the  Missouri  River,  and  of 
the  long  and  perilous  journey  of  two  boys  in  search  of  Kit  Carson  and 
the  solution  of  the  secret  they  set  forth  to  discover. 

IN  TEXAS  WITH  DAVY  CROCKETT 

A  Story  of  the  Texas  War  of  Independence 

Illustrated,     12mo.     $1.50 

A  tale  of  that  intensely  dramatic  and  exciting  period  when  Texas 
won  her  independence  from  Mexico.  The  characters  of  the  story  are 
all  well  known  historically  and  the  reader  is  carried  through  the  heroic 
episodes  from  the  battle  of  the  Alamo  to  the  annihilation  of  the  Mexican 
forces  at  San  Jacinto.  

THE  HERMIT  OF 
THE  CULEBRA  MOUNTAINS 

Or,  The  Adventures  of  Two  Schoolboys 
in  the  Far  West 

Illustrated.     12mo.     $1,50 

The  experiences  and  adventures  of  two  boys  on  a  promised  hunting 
trip  in  the  mountains  of  Southern  Colorado.  The  pleasures  of  the  hunt 
are  suddenly  laid  aside  and  the  boys  involved  in  Indian  warfare  and 
unexpected  adventures  with  the  mysterious  Hermit  of  the  Culebra 
Mountains,  in  his  strange,  mysterious  home. 

THE  LOST  TREASURE  CAVE 

Or,  Adventures  With  the  Cowboys  of  Colorado 

Illustrated.     12mo.     $1.50 

The  story  of  the  search  for  the  lost  treasure  cave,  the  secret  of 
which  had  remained  undiscovered  for  centuries,  guarded  by  the  mum- 
mies of  the  ancient  Indians  who  hid  the  treasure  before  the  destruction 
of  their  race  in  prehistoric  times. 


E.  P.  DUTTON  &  COMPANY 

31  West  23d  St.  New  York 


New  books  for  boys,  spirited  tales  of  life  and 
adventure,  of  toil  and  success  among  the 
Bays  and  Islands  of  Puget  Sound  and  along 
the  coast  of  the  Northwest  Country, 

By  JAMES  COOPER  WHEELER 


Captain  Pete  of  Puget 
Sound 

This  story  by  a  new  author  deals  with  the  open- 
Ing  of  the  great  Northwest,  one  of  the  most  in- 
teresting events  in  American  History  to  the  boy 
mind.  The  hero — while  in  no  sense  a  youthful 
prodigy — succeeds  in  making  a  name  for  himself, 
after  having  been  instrumental  in  securing  the 
arrest  of  smugglers  who  infested  these  regions. 
The  book  is  written  with  a  first-hand  knowledge  of 
the  region  and  cannot  fail  to  delight  the  boy 
reader. 

Illustrated  with  Full-patfe  Plate*.      12mo.     Cloth.   $1.3O 


Captain  Pete  of  Gortesana 

Captain  Pete  in  this  book  is  able  to  secure  an 
education — and  to  make  a  place  for  himself  in  the 
world.  His  further  adventures,  his  friends,  and  his 
entrance  into  business  form  an  admirable  boys'  tale. 
Owing  to  the  especial  interest  in  the  Puget  Sound 
region  this  book  is  especially  timely. 

Illustrated  with   Full-patfe   Plate..      12mo.     Cloth.  91.5O 

E.  P.  DUTTON  AND  COMPANY 

31  West  23d  St.          •          New  York 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


FEB  17  1964 


BOOK  BOX 


Form  L9-32m-8,'57(.C8680s4)444 


I  II  INI   I 
L  005  795  208 


